Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Let me preface this post with the observation that V. has started referring to me as "Alice Ingalls Wilder."
Monday, in the middle of my workday, I got a call from my contractor. "I thought you ought to know," he begins --
I freeze in anticipation --
"-- that your neighbors' contractor hit the gas main today. The fire department had to come out and shut things off."
Oh, well, I think, at least it wasn't my contractor that hit the gas main.
"They wanted you to come home and let them into the house, but I was able to get them in. We checked around and opened a couple windows, but they're sending everybody home because of the fumes."
Sigh. Okay, that's one day gone.
Next morning, I noticed that the shower was a little... tepid. However, I got through it without freezing and then promptly forgot all about it in my rush to get out the door.
This morning, of course, there was no hot water at all. I made do by heating a teakettle of water on the stove and taking an abbreviated sponge bath. And this time, as I left the house, I made sure to stop and ask one of the workers to please make sure the pilot light to the water heater was turned back on.