Last week, everything in my house blew up. All the wiring. The refrigerator motor/fan died. The TV broke, the bathroom light fitting broke.
The landlord had everything fixed within 3 days.
And I broke my desk chair. I was standing on it to try and fix the light fitting (yes, it had wheels, yes, of course I am that stupid). Was my landlord remotely pissed off that I’d destroyed something else? No. I found the landlord’s wife huffing up the stairs with an office chair and the landlord was carrying the old one down the stairs. They are in their 70s and have serious health problems. I almost fought with the guy to let me carry the old chair out to the rubbish skips but I realised I was insulting his pride by suggesting he couldn’t manage it himself.
And the point is, I broke it and they absolutely refused to let me pay for it. It couldn’t be considered ‘wear and tear’ because it broke in half.
Now I have to think of a gift to give to a wonderful gentleman and his wife, who fight day and night to stop Buttercup from electrocuting/blowing up/bashing her brains out/burning herself alive through her own stupidity and clumsiness.