A tale of two pillows

This is a completely random story that may or may not bore you. What it will do is underline the gross generalisation that estate agents are born to lie. Much as BMW drivers are born to drive like assholes, but that’s for another day.

We had a lovely holiday (which is now a very distant memory) and checked out of the house we rented on 3 January. As I was already halfway terminal with Bronchitis I packed the suitcases and checked rooms and cupboards and drawers and made sure that everything was on the bed in our room. Everything including our pillows, that were in plain view.

We always travel with our own pillows. Etienne because he likes a really, really flat pillow and me because a) other people’s pillows give me the heebie jeebies and b) I sleep only on a (very expensive) memory foam pillow that I am very, very attached to. As in, I cannot sleep on any other pillow.

So, I stacked all the suitcases on our bed along with the pillows and Etienne was in charge of Evacuation and Packing. I was in charge of Getting Children to Pee.

We arrive home and unpack the car, only to realise the pillows were left behind. On the bed. In plain sight. (Have I mentioned this?) But let’s not linger at the sense of utter disappointment and betrayal I felt at being separated from my beloved pillow. Life’s too short, forgive and forget and all that you know.

I then drove to Tygervalley and, in my rapidly deteriorating health, dragged myself around trying to find another pillow. This was not possible as clearly everyone this side of the N1 decided they needed a farking memory foam pillow for Christmas. But anyway, as I said, no grudges held or anything like that, I kept calm and carried on.

I also called the agent, Pieter* and arrange for the pillows to be collected and dropped off with our friends that were leaving the next day.

Much to my surprise (gasp!), no pillows were dropped off and no-one at the Estate Agent’s office knew anything about the pillows the next day when our friends went out of their way to stop there and enquire.

Never fear, our friends had another friend that was only leaving a week later that was happy to bring them to Cape Town, then give them to our friends who would then return them to us. I was not pleased, but short of driving back to Shelley Point I really didn’t have much choice. I would just have to drown my separation anxiety in vodka.

Last Monday I called the lovely Pieter* to arrange for said pillows to be dropped off. He knows nothing about the pillows, hasn’t seen them, but promises to send someone to look for them. I breathe deeply, count to 10 and politely thank him for all his efforts. A little while later he calls back, ecstatic. I would never guess, the pillows have been in his car all this time and he will drop them off at the house (right around the corner!) that very same day. I could almost feel my lovely pillow under my check and I dreamt of all the lovely dreams I would dream once we are reunited, my pillow and I.

So, the week goes by and Etienne doesn’t want to keep bothering this friend of our friends about the pillows, so we wait. On Saturday morning I finally make him sms the guy, nope, sorry, no pillows have been dropped off. At which point I become very sad and unhappy about the imminent loss of my beloved pillow.

So, I call my dear friend Pieter*, but his phone is off. I call the office and leave a rather colourfully worded message on the voicemail. I have to confess, this news almost broke me, this potentially devastating and highly avoidable loss of my pillow was just a little too much for my gentle constitution.

I eventually get hold of a lady in the office who tells me that the pillows have been in their office SINCE THE DAY WE LEFT, but that she couldn’t help me as she had an appointment in 30 minutes and couldn’t drop our pillows off at the house AROUND THE CORNER, but that she would try to make a plan. I assured her that it would probably be in her best interest to try and make that plan.
Needless to say, no pillows came back to Cape Town with the friend of our friends.

BUT THEN. I received a phone call today to gleefully inform me to collect my pillows from a random company in Bellville with no indication of who to ask for or where they would be.

The Hunt for Tania’s Pillow continues.

*I have made absolutely no attempt to change his name. The liar.

5 thoughts on “A tale of two pillows”

  1. Oh my hat, that last line is the best!!
    I have the same relationship with my feather pillow, so feel your pain

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