Bad day at the office

   One of those days today. Everything is broken or not working (toilets, water) and there was a succession of stupid people. One woman complaining about the blue water in the Portaloos we have while the public toilets are being fixed. Umm, lady, the blue water is the chemically treated water that ensures that your effluent is made biologically inert. If the water was yellow or brown you would have grounds for complaint, blue, no. I think her real gripe was that she felt she was too good to use a Portaloo. Welcome to Christchurch, we all shit in the same pot here and there are no first-class toilets just for tourists. Sorry. After what we've been through we just don't care much about trivial whinges anymore.
  Two imbeciles from the UK wanted me to plan their Sunday drive for them. They hadn't even got a road map of the city and obviously had no idea of how to use one anyway. His complaint was that tourist brochures tell you where to go but not how to get there. I was tempted to say that it was all an evil plot to make tourists use their brains. After telling them about the no-go Red Zone area where the streets are ruptured (earthquake) the man then pointed at the area on the map and said "oh, so we can drive through here then?" No. I have just finished saying that you can't!
   And we've only just started the tourist season! How will I cope with the fools off the cruise-ships? Maybe have a nice, quiet breakdown? Become a hermit.  Take up extreme sports. Have large amounts of promiscuous sex with lovely young men. Chocolate and wine no longer work for me, I feel too bloated and racked with guilt afterwards.
   There's always the garden, I guess, but with that comes work and responsibility too.
   And no Emma-cat to come home to at the end of the day. Thomas is going to become very spoiled, as I focus my thwarted affections on him. Poor baby, it's going to be tough being the Indoors Cat.