Strange Bedfellows (or, Compromised Integrity)

When I stumbled home on Thursday night, the indoor temperature was 58 and dropping. My first thoughts were Bastards! I thought it was illegal to shut the gas off in winter. I realized it was February and wondered if the law only held through January. I was pretty perturbed, I tell you. Thursday and Friday nights were spent huddling under the covers with a dog on the right and an ex on the left. It was the only way. I feel a little weird and on edge today. Dirty.

We did find out, though, that our gas was not turned off after all (and now that we’ve been paid, we’re in no danger of that – see, at our old apartment gas wasn’t a separate bill, so we didn’t realize we were missing one, so it never was put in our names, so we ended up with a $300 bill and a letter saying if you don’t pay this, they will shut your gas off, but it’s all better now) – it appears that something in our furnace shorted out and blew a fuse, so the guy showed up, fiddled around for a while, replaced something, and HEAT AGAIN! SWEET ZEPHYRS OF SPRING! I CAN FEEL MY TOES!

In the “Even Better” file, our sink fell off the wall yesterday. I was woken up by muffled yells. I thought, What does Ivan have in his mouth? I rushed to the bathroom to find him, toothbrush clenched between his teeth, holding the sink up as the water glooshed out the missing drainpipe and onto the floor. Then it was time to play the what do we have that will fit under the sink? game – the laundry hamper was too tall, the stool was too short – because the two water feeds were still connected, and if they’d broken, it would have been water eeeerrrrrvrywhere. It turns out that our sink was connected to the wall only by glue. Glue! No screws or bolts or brackets. I’m as big a fan of glue as anyone – perhaps bigger – but I’d try something a little more substantial. My theory? The drainpipe was an integral part of the sink’s support system, and when the plumber replaced the old pipe about two months ago, he put in a new pipe that was a few millimeters shorter, thus weakening the substructure. This compromised integrity put undue strain on the glue until it eventually gave out, dropping the sink into Ivan’s surprised lap. I finally busted into the Ganglebot’s room and found an adjustable office chair – this is now holding up the defunct sink.

Speaking of compromised integrity . . . I may have miscalculated (simple addition! I used to be a math major, I swear!) my credits. I might be able to pick something up this late, but it’s possible that I would be required to do another semester. If this is so, I think I’ll just stop. Not do the program any more. Maybe they’ll still let me teach my class – maybe not. I really don’t care at this point. Time to wait till tomorrow to think about things – otherwise, life looks a little too bleak right now.

Plus, there weren’t any good commercials last night. Though Prince was mesmerizing. Well, mesmerizing-ish. I didn’t stick around to see the big white sheet/Purple Rain/phallic guitar thing – phooey. I hear it was fantastic. Fabulous, even.

Anyone for a drink?

Wait – I did see the Tim Malloys (“We’re just a comedy act. But with moustaches.”) on Friday night. Yay! Sweet memory. This is my happy place.