It was just unbelievable, so many things were breaking over such a short period of time.
It started the night before, when they came in. First the knob came off the back door when they tried to open it, then the handle broke in the bathroom when they went to flush the toilet, and this was followed by the globe going on the bedside lamp. Now, in the morning, sitting on the edge of the bed pulling his socks on, he was jarred to one side and nearly ended up on the floor when the whole thing drop sideways with a crack.
He came down mumbling, “Rotten leg came off, didn’t it!
She looked up from unwrapping food, “What leg?”
“One of the legs gave way on the bed; could be worse, I suppose.”
She shrugged.
He went on, “When we came in last night, I had a feeling about it.”
“You did?”
“I was right, wasn’t I? Things breaking. Now, the bed. Could be worse.”
She went looking for plates. Not having much luck, she sighed and gave a grunt of disapproval.
He sat at the counter, saying, “Never mind, it could be worse.”
Now, she was struggling, trying to open one of the drawers. She called out, “Can you fix this? I need cutlery.”
He went over and yanked at it. The front section came off in is hand, with the drawer still jammed in place. He managed to slide his hand in and bring out what she wanted.
She shook her head in annoyance.
“I know,” he said, ‘but, it could be worse.”
“You keep saying that. How could it be worse?”
“Well, think about it. What if we weren’t squatters? What if we lived here?”