You don't need water heaters in hell, I didn't think.
2003-02-27
5:53 p.m.

The Joys of Home Ownership

Dear Former Landlord,

I miss you. Screw equity.

Love,

Pamela

Jesus. Christ. My house is so pretty, why does it work against me?

So. I now know which of those two metal things in the corner of my basement is the furnace and which is the hot water heater. The blue one is the furnace. The cream colored one, which also goes by the monkier The Crapping Thing The Flooded My Crapping Basement, is the hot water heater. Or it was. Now it is a useless piece of crap that some guys hauled away. In its place stands the new cream colored thing that was once the money with which we planned to go to London in April. But at least I can shower.

Alll byyy Mysel-el-elf

My husband? Travels a lot. This means that when, say, the hot water heater pumps an assload of water into the basement, it's my problem. Well, actually, it means it's my kind neighbor Bob's problem, but, whatever. Details.

Anyway, my husband has millions and millions of hours of vacation time saved up. I have maybe a week or two saved. One of the reasons that I have far less is because while he's away, things inevitably go wrong and I have to take off of work to fix them. Since I am la femme de public transport and we moved to the 'burbs, once I leave work, I'm pretty much a moron for making the hour (2 hour if it's the long time between trains afternoon) trip back and forth any more than I have to. Back and forth twice in one day works about to about half the work day. If he were to drive home and deal with something and drive back, it's a pretty quick thing. But that's when he's here, and not in LA. Where he always is, lately.

Anyway. I understand that that's his job. I understand that he doesn't do it for fun, and that if he did something with less travel, it would probably pay a lot less. Since I make about 4 dollars a year, he has to make a lot. All of this, I get. But, it doesn't mean I can't cry about it.

In other news

I have wicked cramps today. So bad, in fact, that I wondered if getting pregnant would wipe out my cramps for nine months. Ha? I like to look at the big picture. Or not.