It’s a gas gas gas

OK, so last night, I was home alone because Wade had to go to Dili for a meeting. It was my first night at home by myself. As luck and Murphy’s Law would have it, the gas bottle decided to run out just as I had put the pasta on to boil. Luckily, we had a spare bottle, but I couldn’t for the life of me crack the nut to change it over (I have since found out – ie since Wade got home – that for safety reasons, gas fittings all turn in the opposite direction to normal ones, so in attempting to crack the nut, I was only making it tighter).

I called out to security (yes, we have security guards at night here, but don’t be too alarmed - it is all merely in the name of job creation) to come and help, so he came inside and tightened the nut some more. After both of us sweating and struggling for around 20 minutes, we shook our heads in disbelief at just how hard this nut was to crack.

The guard said (in Tetun): “Tomorrow I’ll get someone to come and fix it for you”.
(I‘m pretty sure) I said (in Tetun): “No, don’t worry. Wade will be back tomorrow, so he can fix it”.

...

Next morning.

Guard (in Tetun): “Did you get the gas bottle changed over?”
Me (in Tetun): “No”
Guard: “I’ll ask someone from the office to come and help you change it over.”
Me: “No, don’t worry. Wade will be back today, so he will be able to fix it.”

...

Later that morning...

Wade comes back. Attaches new gas bottle in approximately 46 seconds. Advises me on the idiosyncrasies of gas fittings. I am wide-eyed at the wonders of the world.

...

Still later that morning...

Troupe carrier pulls up outside our house. Four men from the office get out and start walking towards our house. Wade goes outside to see what the problem is.

Office man 1 (in Tetun): “We’ve come to change your gas bottle...”