I woke up at 6:13, made it to the kitchen to make coffee and barely noticed that the water pressure was significantly lower than usual. It’s an old house; someone takes a shower or runs the washer, the rest of the faucets run low.
Then, as my espresso was espressing (right?) I started filling the sink to wash the few cups left from last night and get ready for the sticky mess my mixer bowl would be when I started mixing flour, yeast and water for bread. Monday morning, wee hours. Bread baking time.
But the water was a mere drizzle. Nobody was taking a shower. The last load of laundry I did was at 8PM last night. I walked downstairs and heard the washing machine filling. Uh, oh. I rounded the corner and found an inch of water on the floor of my laundry room, and the washer taking on more and more water. Overflowing.
I shut off the machine, and unplugged it, even. Probably not a great idea in retrospect, seeing as how I was standing in water and there’s this thing about water and electricity, yeah? Anyway.
But the water continued. I turned off the taps to the washer. Finally it stopped pouring in, but there I was, sloshing through water in my basement, a fully loaded schedule today and no washing machine repair people to call at 6:30 in the freaking morning.
Whatevs, I called at 9, after canceling one of my clients, they said they’d work me in. The dude called when I was getting my hair cut and I didn’t hear the phone. When I called back he was all accusatory that I didn’t answer my phone. So I kissed his ass and apologized and he came over.
Eighty-five dollars and a new water valve later, my washing machine works. I met my friends for lunch at a new place where they give you those little number cards on metal stands when you order.
Oh, I think you know my number.