on the barricades We are big Fans of the musical 'Les Miserables', which is known to play a role barricades. Yesterday afternoon I stood on the barricades.
The whole upper garden was basically a single barricade. Rear left before the summer house a foul-smelling oil-tank barricades. Prior to a giant wooden beam barricade. Then on the front, a Schuttbarrikade intact basement ceiling, to a slight angle, a large excavator. The very front on the sidewalk a hole.
on Schuttbarrikade next to the excavator two heroes. They stood there. And looked into who is passing on the street. As I approached, they asked who I was and broke in the light of my answer in jubilation. For she knew no further. Actually they would like removed the barricades. But an executive said, because the wood come back. The others have said, the wood come off.
boss number one turned out to be Mr. Architect staff, responsible for our project. Number two was chief architect Lord himself. The heroes have any abdominal pain. For in the oil tanks had still been oil. I do not understand what exactly should be the problem - it was quite clear that was in the tanks or sediment. Finally, we had tried as recently as last winter, cackling, this redirect in the heating. Unsuccessful. The heroes think they would tomorrow bring cat litter to the leak (Budde wüü?) Oil to bind. Until the cause of the pungent smell, the dawning realization on my horizon, I understand only station.
Oh, and the basement ceiling, they could not tear as easily as you would first pull out the bars to prevent the staircase collapses. Whether the staircase is still needed. "Of course that is still needed."
Mr. favorite neighbor asked me slightly desperate, whether we intend seriously, all those barricades the next few weeks are sooo permit. "Of course not." "But the boss has said nothing away", I find one of the heroes into the word. Perhaps we should head, or better sous chef, sometimes come to the site. I'll call him and quote him on the spot.
Arrived he marvels, given the size, when there came together. The heroes are oversmoked something, they have the wood stacked in the garden for free, but it now needs to the container. The sous chef is just as delighted as the heroes do not now carry away more oil tanks. We agree that the cellar hole is filled, so that in future no one is pure. And the rest is gone tomorrow. Anything else would be an imposition on the neighbors.
The men all want to go to happy hour, but something worries me. As a few curious children run over, I realize what is missing: the fence. I ask Sous Chef, where is the is. "It will come tomorrow." "But we can make this impossible so." So I call back the heroes from their huge empty truck and we tinker with the old picket fence, a provisional entry and crash barrier. "The site-entry signs will also come tomorrow?" The sous-chef says, which are always on the fence. Safe side, he instructed the heroes who sit back in the truck. We proceed to the entrance of the Lord tenant. All full of rubble and broken glass. Sous-chef brings the heroes of their vice, namely having a broom.
evening reminds me that on that fence (or anywhere else) is actually something belongs.
this morning calls the tree angel - he is now also. As well, Mr architect is on vacation, the sous-chef today is not even there, but by phone. Without further ado, I appoint angel tree for site managers to ensure that the heroes are not sitting idly at the next emerging issue on the barricades. I start at noon, tree angel announces that oil has leaked again. What the heck is that with this oil?
The hero of the excavator control is really angry and told me this week I might send him to prison cake. I bake a cake in principle. But what's going on, it stinks even more disgusting than yesterday. How is this dilute .. Oil box into being? Held at me bluffing, we would have to empty the tanks, The next time they would require a written certificate. I still do station.
The mobile number of the Sous-Chefs is switched over to the office, sitting there, the two competent and reliable ladies. You take care of the oil box. Incidentally, I wonder where that point is. Since the building permit was like this a red piece of paper with up to 10,000 euro penalty. The ladies tell me to mind, which is safe in the office.
Mr. Sous-Chef calls me, says that oil chest were clear. The demolition contractor should have found and check that there was a teeny residue in the tanks. Aha. I ask him to the point, red or green or break point. Silence. "Hello?" "Uh, yes, that is probably in the office." "Have you asked him then?" Silence. "Hello, Mr. Sous Chef, you are still there." "Um, yes, so I can approve the demolition. Whether we need to have a red or green dot, I will clarify." I am beginning to get restless and tell him that I get a little stomach ache. He reassured me that everything was nothing tragic. Well then.
For lunch, I authorize me a steak, followed by one hours Bürokratiekram. No one answers, I'm on my way to the site and call the office. The construction site was stopped, you have no point. I go speechless Next, will examine the stopped point. Since calls to Mr. Sous-Chef. A letter had been completed, but did not leave the office. He had already phoned the building authority, something passing more often and Monday he get the ominous point.
Arrived I see that the site continues to run without stopping, and already looks much neater. On the excavator now a very active man, who introduced himself as Mr. demolition contractor. He tells me the oil box. Mr. sous chef had told him that the tanks are pumped out. And whether he could please clean up your everything that he had never left such a construction as it had instructed sous-chef. I would, moreover, due to a illegal waste storage space in a problematic legal situation put, if the stuff are stayed that way. He said from the outset that it made no sense to store the wood back in the garden. And if I had financial problems, he would like to wait until the second application with the payment.
My last phone conversation with Mr. Sous-Chef had a certain focus, because he felt guilty, what I had, except the point (which is wholly-tragic) but nothing had gone wrong. I wanted to enumerate any more, instead asked him what exactly he had prepared for.
I thank the neighbors who responded to the Building Department this afternoon held me to the point. The children the two days and nights are not like the uncertain pit. The ladies in the office, this afternoon did everything possible to fill the unfilled request for authorization. Just the man who had allegedly filled out and had not only left the office. Why the heck must then be faxed to the demolition contractor?
Shit happens, not an issue. But one thing I do not at all: if one pushes it on others. So not.
