(hic)
Yesterday the woman who lives in the house next to ours banged on the door, waking me from a heavily medicated sleep - to be explained shortly - to inform me she was worried the water was getting so high in her yard that it would soon flood her living room.
I suspect she was being overly dramatic, but I assured her that we were taking action. (hic) In other words I had left it up to Amy. Amy thought perhaps our homeowner's warranty might cover it and she used the warranty service to schedule a plumber to come out this morning.
As fate would have it, I was home this morning, not at work, because my throat felt like shards of molten glass were embedded in it - which by the way is my explanation for the major Nyquil snooze attempt yesterday which fell victim to nappus interuptus thanks to the next door neighbor lady's knocking.
The plumber sent by the warranty firm appeared right on schedule. He also appeared to be intimately familiar with methamphetamine. He could easily have been mistaken for Keith Richards' sickly older brother. (hic) He did however quickly diagnose the problem: we had a water leak. After insisting I write him a 45 dollar check for a "service call" he then divulged that our home warranty wouldn't cover the repair because the leak was several feet away from our home not "in" or "under" our home.
I take some comfort at least in the knowledge that our 45 bucks by now has most certainly wormed its way into the murky muddy bowels of the plumbing drug culture - into the hands of those who sell plumber's crack. (hic)
Anyway we sent the scary plumber on his way and Amy contacted a nearby plumbing firm which we trust and for whom Amy does occasional computer work.
They dispatched a plumber immediately, a guy who appeared to not only be chemical free but competent to boot.
It was while I was waiting for his arrival however that I noticed "the banana rebellion."
Erin had apparently bought a bunch of bananas and hung them on the little hook where we hang bananas for reasons that I don't really understand, but which I've done my best at inquiry avoidance.
I am nothing if not consistent.
Normally the bananas hang there until we pluck them off one by one, but this morning all of the bananas had fallen. I don't mean the bunch had dropped from the hook...each individual banana fell on its own. A small portion of each peel had given way and the bananas had plummeted to the counter in single file fashion.
I had visions of each banana independently deciding to make a break for it in the middle of the night...the great banana split. (hic)
I'm running a fever I'm certain.
Anyway, I studied the banana peculiarity for a moment and then decided to ignore it, although I did eat one of the bananas to show the others who is boss and keep them in their place.
So the plumber shows up - a healthy looking guy who had no apparent desire to use pipes for any purpose other than for those functions normally associated with plumbing. He spent most of the day digging in the muck that is now our front yard.
As he worked, I took the unconventional approach of calling my doctor since my usual tactic in dealing with illness - ignoring the symptoms and hoping they would go away - was failing. I was painfully reminded of this each time I took a sip of coffee and experienced a searing agony heretofore known only to carnival sideshow sword swallowers with delirium tremors. (hic)
In other words, I felt about as crappy as I have felt in many years. My throat felt even worse this morning than yesterday, my head was throbbing, I was sweating, green foreign objects were attempting to expel themselves from my body in a variety of unpleasant ways, and what was left of my voice sounded like a bad impersonation of Darth Vader with end stage emphysema.
Leaving the plumber muttering dirty words in the mud I went to the doctor who gave me a quick once over and pronounced that I "looked like crap."
I was preparing to write him a 45 dollar check since this seemed to be the established protocol of the day, but unlike the suspected speed-freak plumber, the doctor had an actual diagnosis and a plan. He told me I had a respiratory infection and gave me a variety of medications including steroids which have thus far guaranteed that I am unable to sleep and have given me periodic spells of the hiccups. (hic)
My throat is still sore, I'm continuing to sweat, and green aliens are still escaping from various orifices sometimes with little or no fanfare or announcement.
(hic)
I have taken my usual approach toward the hiccup issue.
(hic)
Anyway, shortly after I got back from visiting the doctor and the pharmacy - where they dispense drugs legally in case any plumbers are reading this - the plumber working in our mud hole completed a "temporary" fix of our leak. He told us that the ground needed to dry out before a more permanent solution could be attempted.
This at least means we have running water in the house and have ceased dispensing our water supply unsolicited to our neighbors.
Additionally, Amy tells me the owner of the plumbing company has offered to work with her - trading out computer services to help pay for the repairs, something I was unsure how we were going to accomplish beyond my usual strategy for confronting such matters...closing my eyes and hoping they would all go away.
Oddly enough, despite the steroids I nearly dozed off while doing that...unfortunately the hiccups rousted me from that brief moment of slumber.
That's a shame too because I think I was beginning to reach a point of englightment where I would have understood why the bananas were trying to escape.
(hic)
