A bit of a classic start to Mercury Retrograde. Starting last night, our wireless internet service provider wigged out completely, a more than 12-hour long interruption of service at a most inconvenient time.
But I should have expected it, I guess.
The other thing I should have remembered about Mercury Retrograde is the degradation in quality of casual communication. I was given a warning, after all, what with a bureaucratic nincompoop’s insistence on a copy of my matric certificate ( here’s a heads-up: not all of us completed High School in South Africa, and those of us who’ve passed through University more than 30 years ago shouldn’t really be asked for these things.).
So this morning, when our gas bottle finally gasped its last exhalation, I rang up the nearest Builders Warehouse in Rivonia to check that they do exchange 19kg bottles as well as fill up 9kg ones. Assured of getting both bottles replenished, we scooted around to Rivonia and immediately faced what looked very much like the march of the Walking Dead in the Builders Warehouse parking lot. Rivonia habitues are like a cross between the typical English Chav and a Sloane Ranger: garishly decorative, distracted,bumbling,loud and brainless.
And those were just the customers. The staff need an urgent refresher course in the distinction between their arse and their elbow, I think.
We came away with a half-charge on the 9kg bottle and an empty 19kg bottle, having spent a good 90 minutes going from pillar to post and cashier to refund department, only to find out that they had run out of gas.
As I said, this is classic Mercury Retrograde behaviour and I suppose I should’ve anticipated it. But it wouldn’t have been so much fun then, would it?