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Apr. 30th, 2009 10:41 pmToday was quite strange.
I thought it would be a nothing-day, because yesterday was high pain and today I paid for that by falling asleep all the time. The sleeping diminished the pain, though not the inflammation. If I had a crystal ball, it would say "sleep more." And that's what I thought my day would be about.
I got little bits of work done this evening and was feeling pleased with myself, when a squirrel chips delivery was announced. The anticipation made me all householdery, for some reason. Fuelled by andrenalin, I started putting a load of washing on. I really ought to finish that load of washing. It was brutally interrupted when a water thingummy broke in the next room (the bathroom, not the bedroom - I would be in a state if it were the unplumbed bedroom) and life started flooding.
Fortunately my bathroom floor is a clever thing and prevented big flooding. Unfortunately, it was 10 pm and I couldn't leave the water off till morning, because I have neighbours and they need water too. I rang all the emergency plumbers in the phone book and one answered the phone. It turned out I got both the boss and the young guy out of bed, but they were really nice about it and they both agreed that my neighbours should not be waterless. This means I can have hot drinks in the morning, and a hot shower. I hadn't thought of that. It's already under 6 degrees outside - I'll need them by morning.
What had happened was that a metal hose had perished. Mr Plumber waved it at me triumphantly and we agreed it was an impressive collapse. All my toiletries are washed clean with hot water, and some of my soaps have become very small. The damage could have been worse.
I don't know what it will cost until I get invoiced, but the nice young man who fixed it is safely home and I can use the money I was saving for the washing machine. So all is well.
The moral of the story is: if you live in a place and it and its innards hit a certain age, things will break. Then more things will break. And the breakages will continue. So don't do your laundry late at night.
I just realised that my bathroom floor is delightfully clean. And that I missed Heroes. And that I told the poor lost plumber (he couldn't find my flat) that I would come outside and direct him to it - I told him to look for a black t-shirt and purple pyjama pants. I looked so elegant! I looked even more elegant earlier, because I found a ribbon from a birthday present and tied my hair up in it, but I decided one should not greet plumbers or squirrel chip deliveries with bronze ribbons in one's hair.
I thought it would be a nothing-day, because yesterday was high pain and today I paid for that by falling asleep all the time. The sleeping diminished the pain, though not the inflammation. If I had a crystal ball, it would say "sleep more." And that's what I thought my day would be about.
I got little bits of work done this evening and was feeling pleased with myself, when a squirrel chips delivery was announced. The anticipation made me all householdery, for some reason. Fuelled by andrenalin, I started putting a load of washing on. I really ought to finish that load of washing. It was brutally interrupted when a water thingummy broke in the next room (the bathroom, not the bedroom - I would be in a state if it were the unplumbed bedroom) and life started flooding.
Fortunately my bathroom floor is a clever thing and prevented big flooding. Unfortunately, it was 10 pm and I couldn't leave the water off till morning, because I have neighbours and they need water too. I rang all the emergency plumbers in the phone book and one answered the phone. It turned out I got both the boss and the young guy out of bed, but they were really nice about it and they both agreed that my neighbours should not be waterless. This means I can have hot drinks in the morning, and a hot shower. I hadn't thought of that. It's already under 6 degrees outside - I'll need them by morning.
What had happened was that a metal hose had perished. Mr Plumber waved it at me triumphantly and we agreed it was an impressive collapse. All my toiletries are washed clean with hot water, and some of my soaps have become very small. The damage could have been worse.
I don't know what it will cost until I get invoiced, but the nice young man who fixed it is safely home and I can use the money I was saving for the washing machine. So all is well.
The moral of the story is: if you live in a place and it and its innards hit a certain age, things will break. Then more things will break. And the breakages will continue. So don't do your laundry late at night.
I just realised that my bathroom floor is delightfully clean. And that I missed Heroes. And that I told the poor lost plumber (he couldn't find my flat) that I would come outside and direct him to it - I told him to look for a black t-shirt and purple pyjama pants. I looked so elegant! I looked even more elegant earlier, because I found a ribbon from a birthday present and tied my hair up in it, but I decided one should not greet plumbers or squirrel chip deliveries with bronze ribbons in one's hair.