June 9, 2010 – When Your Day Practices the Art of Non-Violent, Non-Cooperation

This has just one of those days when nothing wanted to cooperate.  It wasn’t a bad day, per se, when everything goes horribly wrong and you just want to cry, but it wasn’t a good day either.  In fact, it was less than middling. 

The hot water heater went down this morning—my husband having gotten one last bath out of it.  So he went out to check on it (I say “out” because our hot water heater is only accessible from outside—don’t ask, it’s a trailer); he drained it, but the water ran clear, so it didn’t seem to be a sediment problem.  Then he tried pressing the reset button and it arced.  We flipped the breaker in the house and he tried the reset button again, and again it arced.  Electrical problems are never good in a household appliance, but even less so in an appliance which is intimately connected to water.  It’s 10-12 years old anyways, so we can pretty well assume it’s at the end of its lifespan and it’s time for it to be recycled into a still or water filtration device in a third world country.  (I’m holding out for a still; funds are low, so some extra income would come in handy; we just need to start growing our own corn.)

Of course, I need to take a bath.  I told my husband we ought to turn off the A/C so we’d get hot enough to appreciate a cool shower, but he didn’t seem very keen on that idea.  It wouldn’t help much anyways; we’ve had a cool front come through today and it’s been cloudy and storming most of the day.  It’s as cool outside right now as it is inside.  Which won’t hold true for this upcoming weekend; they’re already issuing heat advisories.  Temps in the mid-90’s with high humidity, making it feel like 100+.  Luckily my plans are for mostly indoors. 

Once my husband gets done cooking his black bean chili (note I said “his;” I don’t eat beans), I’m going to have to pull out the stock pots and heat enough water on the stove to take a bath.  It wouldn’t bad, except that I have waist-length hair.  We have a big garden tub, and it’s actually big enough for me to lay down in and wash my hair, but you do have to have a lot of water to get it to a decent depth, and you need a decent depth to wash long hair.  Aye, there’s the rub. 

Anyways, tomorrow I’m going hot water heater shopping.  For some reason my husband has charged me with doing this task, even though he’s not working and could just as easily come with me.  He’s been busy killing things today on Doom, and maybe he plans on continuing tomorrow.  I don’t have a problem with that, in principal, seeing how I have killed many things on Doom myself (I beat it before he did, mwahaha!), but it’s rather hard to write romantic scenes for a book when there’s the constant sound of automatic gunfire and demons screeching in their death throes on the other side of your desk.  I mean, you just can’t imagine anyone getting it on with that sort of serenade.  And unfortunately the headphone jack on my computer is loose, so I can’t plug the headphones and drown out the killing with the soft sounds of Enya and George Winston piano solos.  I actually have a jack in my computer monitor too, but it doesn’t turn off the speakers, so while I can listen to music on my headphones, my husband ends up listening to it too, and he doesn’t much like killing to the soft sounds of Enya and George Winston piano solos.

Have I mentioned that our house isn’t big enough for two people?  We have 1,086sf, which a lot of people in New York would think is spacious, but which most people around here find a little small.  My parents have about twice that.  We need twice what we have.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s