When Pop Tarts Remake the Classics


A pipe burst in our neighborhood yesterday.  Result?  No heat until at least tomorrow evening.  I am freezing to death in my own home.  The hardwood floors are so cold Max won't walk on them and is getting around by jumping on the furniture. He has no problem with the couch to ottoman to chair to area rug to (aaahhhh) carpeted stairs route, but he's having trouble getting over to his food dish in the dining room...especially since I made it clear that the Christmas tree is NOT to be used as a launching pad of any kind.

I worked from home today in these arctic conditions.  Dryer Guy came earlier this afternoon to dig a bird's nest out of the outside dryer vent by leaning out out bathroom window with a broom handle and a coat hanger.  Cost for this stunning display of technical know-how?  $97.50. Running commentary on the rampant commercialism of Christmas and Dryer Guy's solution to the Middle East crisis?  Free.

Then Plumber Guy came to fix a leak in our upstairs storage room from the HVAC system-dealie-thingie. Even though they were just here about six months for maintenance and told us everything was fine, I was able to sense the leak using my extensive knowledge of HVAC thingies and the fact that WATER WAS COMING THROUGH THE DOWNSTAIRS CEILING.  Jackasses.  $360 later, the leak, it is fixed, and the ceiling, it will be painted and never spoken of again.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must dig out my ski socks and long underwear and possibly knit the cat a sweater.


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