(no subject)

Argh!

Today we have a cleaning inspection. It is quite an important one. You see, we failed the last one and we're going to be charged if we fail this one. So, yesterday we scrubbed and we cleaned. I did the kitchen, which is quite the achievement if you've ever seen our kitchen. All in all, it is a Good Job All Around and we all spent last night being very careful and cleaning up the slightest bit of mess, etc, etc.

Today, of course, Corinne, She Of The Pungent Odour, is at home. This is a rare occasion. The last few times she has been home - about once a week - the following things have happened:

1. She put a hole through the wall. On my side. Cue plaster being walked everywhere.

2. Left her washing up. Some of it has been there for three weeks now. It's driving us all, collectively, bananas. Of course, she doesn't notice, because she's not here, and then looks horrified that it wasn't done in her absence. What does she expect?

Her boyfriend is also here. This is just as bad, given that he smells just as badly and leaves just as much mess everywhere, particularly in the form of washing up and leaving the toilet seat up.

So I've come home from work, and I'v cleaned the house again and I don't want to wake Katie up because she's ill - I may have inadvertantly done so, for which I apologise - but I need to hoover again and oh my god I can't wait until next year when everyone I live with I have chosen to do so.

And we fail this bloody cleaning inspection, she's footing the bill.

--

In other news, I've had five hours sleep and have about a thousands words to spin out today. This is a very, very bad essay.

(no subject)

... I think I just made a major mistake.

I just got very, very angry. You see, we failed the cleaning inspection again and I am Not Putting Up With This Shit. The industrial cleaners, you see, include me and Sarah. I am paid by the university to be an industrial cleaner, and I know what is clean and what isn't.

I tried to be calm. I did. Honestly. I went to reception, got fobbed off, got a phone call and completely flipped the shit out at the Residence Manager. I pointed out that they couldn't charge us because it wasn't in the contract, and if they fancied pulling this one, I had a lot of problems I wanted to point out. I did point them out. I pointed out the broken window that still hasn't been fixed, the people wandering in and out often without ID, the mould, the fact that house was a bloody shithole when we first moved in. I said that we weren't paying.

They sent around the Housekeeping Supervisor. She is a frightening, frightening woman. How do you point out to her that yes, the dirt comes off at the moment, but the scum marks come up again after half an hour? That our shower water marks come up after every shower? That they are judging us by unfair standards, because it was like this when we moved in and even the cleaners couldn't shift it? That we don't have adequate cleaning equipment?

For god's sake. So I'm still absolutely furiously hopping mad right now, and she can come around and re-check on Tuesday all she wants, because this house is uncleanable. I will do what I can, but we can't keep it clean. God knows that we've all tried, but I live with two slightly random elements who are not the cleanest people on earth.

And I still have this bastarding cunting essay to write, and then I have to start revising, and at what point are we all meant to be cleaning?

... oh well. I know what I'm spending, apparently, all of Monday evening and Tuesday morning doing.

I'm not paying it if they try to make me. I really, really mean that. Especially if the window, the mould, and everything else, isn't sorted out. I know I'm sounding a little hysterical here, and I'm probably being unfair, but THIS IS NOT ON. Our house is cleaner than it was when we moved in, and that's all thats required.

Roll on private accommodation.