Friday morning, we woke up to no hot water...again. So I went down to the basement and tried everything to get the heater working. I unplugged, plugged, pressed buttons and flipped switches. I flipped the machine off. No hot water. Not one drop.
Faced with the prospect of a cold shower on a hair wash day, I panicked and called the plumber who informed me that he could maybe squeeze me in on Tuesday.
Tuesday?! As in five days away? As in five days of cold showers? As in washing my hands in cold water after I've cleaned up after the dog for five days? Oh, and perhaps we can just lick our dishes and pots and pans clean for the next five days. Thanks, but I'll try somebody else.
Two hours, twenty gazillion googles and a dozen phone calls later, I got someone to come out...between 12 and 4. Fine. Except they didn't come until 5. Fine. Except they couldn't figure out what was wrong with the heater, but they did get it working again. Fine. Except they knew it wouldn't last, so they'd have to come back...Tuesday. Really?
Was this some kind of plumbing conspiracy? You don't know what's wrong with it today, but you'll know Tuesday? Was the solution going to magically come to them over the three-day weekend? Would it come to them in a dream, or perhaps they could visit a fortune-teller or call the psychic hot line. And how do you temporarily fix something when you don't even know what's wrong with it?
As if suggesting Tuesday wasn't pushing it far enough, (I guess my body language was making my feelings a bit unclear. Folded arms, scowl, bared teeth and lows growls emitting from my throat must have indicated I was happy with the way things were going.), the guy started talking to me about different kinds of heaters and how the Super-Duper-Jiffy-Heater worked better than ours.
Wow. So let me get this straight. You are standing in my kitchen, a room equipped with knives--sharp knives--and trying to sell me a new heater instead of fixing mine which is less than two years old? One of us here must be stupid or have a death wish. Did you miss the part when I explained that I had had a cold shower this morning and it was a hair wash day? Do you think that put me in the happy zone?
And following your logic, if you can't fix something, just replace it? I'm glad you're not my mechanic, because when my car breaks down, I suppose you would recommend just leaving it on the side of the road and buying new. And thank goodness you weren't my husband's surgeon last month when he had broken disks in his back. I am guessing your solution would have been to just get a new guy. "Sorry about your husband, but here's an application for Match.com."
Restraining myself (I didn't have enough hot water at that point to do a good job cleaning blood off the walls), I sent him on his way and called someone else who said they could come...Tuesday. Okay, so it was a conspiracy, but at least we had a temporary fix, and besides, as it turned out, we were leaving the next day and coming back Monday, so it would all work out.
Or not. Saturday morning...no hot water... again. Definitely a conspiracy going on here.
Biting the bullet (cursing, yelling and pounding on the heater didn't seem to be working), we shivered through cold showers and comforted ourselves with the thought that we could take a nice hot shower at the hotel before meeting colleagues of Tim's for dinner.
Arriving at the hotel at 3:30, we found that our room wasn't ready yet. Twenty minutes, they promised. Fine. Thirty minutes later, they assured us that our room was their top priority and housekeeping was in there even as we were speaking. Fine. One hour later, we were still wandering, homeless and showerless around the lobby. Now it was not so fine.
So did you lie about housekeeping being in there or do you just have the sloooowest peeeeople ooon the plaaaanet woooorking for youuuu? Perhaps they are using a tweezer to clean the carpet and a toothbrush for the bathroom? Did they have to take the bedding down to the river and beat it on the rocks to clean it?
But the best part of the wait was not being able to go anywhere but the lobby because it was 4000 degrees outside, and between the puppy and Tim still recovering from back surgery, we were pretty much stuck. To say it wasn't pretty would be like saying Medusa was a supermodel.
One the one side, I had a sixteen week old puppy who thought we had moved into a great big, new home with lots and lots of cool friends for her to meet and greet. And those friends got her soooo very excited that she peed...a lot...many times...but not outside. Oh no, the heat must have addled her fuzzy little brain because she decided the grassy area wasn't really up to her standards, and she much preferred the nice tile in the lobby as her potty spot. Guess who got to clean it up? Yippee. My new favorite way to spend a Saturday.
On the other side was Tim, who thought that somehow he was unhappier about the state of affairs than I was. Hmmm. Let's compare. You've been talking to people about food and wine, swapping notes on restaurants and beaches, and I've been scrubbing the floors with paper towels and Nature's Miracle while simultaneously trying to keep the puppy from jumping and nibbling on everyone and anyone who comes within ten feet of her, looks her way, or looks like they might possibly even be thinking of looking her way.
Oh, and the little trip to the shopping arcade off the lobby where you looked at the merchandise? Yeah. I was pretty occupied trying to explain to six pounds of wiggly fur that Gucci shoes and Louis Vuitton bags were not must-have chewable accessories for a dog.
Finally, we did get into our room, but without time for a hot shower before we had to leave for dinner. However, I consoled myself with the fact that tomorrow would be a better day. Until the next day when I smashed my head on a glass table and gave myself a giant goose-egg on my forehead, and we came home to no hot water...again. And the showerhead in our bathroom stopped working...completely.
Oh yeah, a conspiracy is totally at work here.
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