Moving into a new place is seldom easy. I have been prepared for some banana skins on the way. But this time seems to be exceedingly difficult.
I was promised a new kitchen, and got an involuntary adventure instead. If I ignore the poorly built state it's in, the leaking sink and the fact that I have neither a freezer compartment in my fridge, nor a ceran stove, then I am left with an oldfashioned stove that works beyond any reason. It does work, yes, but you're in for a little jeopardy if you decide to cook an egg or coffee.
If you turn on only one of the 4 hobs, nothing will happen. Turn on 3, and include the bottom right one, and all 4 will start to go full throttle. No matter how you regulate the power. To the state where you can watch the cooking plate turn red and see some sparkles. I am tempted to draw a little chart about the logic of this stove, if there was any.
Now all this wouldn't be so frustrating, if it was taken care of attentively. But my landlady is the mistress of procrastinating, and I am the slave of my own inability to set some limits.
It's been 2 weeks in total now that I have been living with a crazy stove, and instead of asking what she's been doing during these days I find myself nodding understandingly, agreeing to another day waiting since "this document is still missing, that dude is not calling back, those repairing companies are so unreliable..."
Dealing with landlords has always been difficult for me. It paralyses me that all this comes up right at the beginning. I would have welcomed an easy start into a new chapter of my life.
But you can't be guided by the thoughts about how things should be, or you're bound to fall into despair.