Dudes, so many problems, so little time. Here goes…(Oh and notice that some problems actually create new ones as life is prone to happen.
1. My first problem has to do with PSE&G (natch). They are working in front of my house doing lordy knows what. For those of you who read (parts) of my (long-winded, frequently rambling) blog, you might recall that the Township of Kearny has elected to do a questionable yet constant overhaul on the 200 block of Davis Avenue. So far, I’ve seen them dig giant trenches in the street, only to fill them up again. I’ve seen them scramble up on poles. I’ve seen them dig teeny tiny person sized, waist-high holes and then stand blithely inside of them. Various formats of blue-collar worker armies have stomped through with police officers in tow. I have no flipping clue what they’re doing but between the hours of 8am and 10am (prime “going to work” travel hours), they block off my street, drill things (which makes a fantastic amount of noise), fudge up the bus route (causing me to miss it completely on a regular basis due to the total irregularity of the route/time that the bus may or may not appear)…and then at 10am, the street is closed off but it’s a ghost town…no workers, no police…it’s like they all scuttled into their freshly drilled hidey holes for a mid-morning naparoo.
So my point is that there is now “something wrong with the heat”…ie We don’t have any. I always turn the heat off when I leave the house and I must have forgotten to yesterday. We came home after class (after miserably failing our math test leading us to assume we’ll have to re-take the class next semester, more on this later) only to find that the heat was “on” 70 but that the actual temp in the house was 59. Because we’re stupid (and probably have burnt more than a few braincells in day), I wasn’t 100% sure I’d left the heat on and Kristyn wasn’t 100% sure that she hadn’t just turned it on. (She had a vague memory that she re-enacted for me in which she kind of danced up to the thermostat and then laid against the wall, her spindly fingers resting ON the thermostat…but that’s where the “memory” fades and she’s not sure if she actually flipped the switch or hugged the wall…so it goes.)
So we laid down on our respective couches with our pajamas on, extra pairs of socks, hoodie sweatshirts over our pajamas, slippers and two blankets each waiting for the heat to come up. After a lil while, we realized that regardless of which “turning on the heat” fantasy we could believe happened more, it didn’t matter bc clearly there was a problem.
So we went downstairs and tried to figure out different ways to “fix” the problem. I don’t know how well you all are up on your “furnace knowledge” but the little we DO know is that sometimes you have to lurk down to the basement, find that weird vial of water, check its level and pull a lever to add fresh water or another one to let out some ungodly evil water. Even still, this took a lot of “pulling wrong levers” before we got the desired affect. This didn’t do jack shit. We called Kristyn’s Dad and in true Kristyn’s Dad spirit, he gave us the penultimate “So this is whatcha gotta do” seminar via satellite. Typically when we receive these seminars there always reaches a point where he doubts our credibility, sanity, ability to think straight, or honesty (because, let’s face it, he’s forever having to get us out of jams…like the time we drove our car to Pathmark in a blizzard bc we wanted sandwiches and then needed him to come jumpstart our car bc it died…or the hundred and fifty times we locked the keys in the car with it running…or the thousand and fifty times we locked the keys in the car and left it for an entire day until it was 100% dead…). Anyway, so last night he’s talking to us over speakerphone telling us to do all sorts of things that we couldn’t figure out. He’s having us look for a switch that does not exist. Here’s a transcript of the conversation:
Dad: Okay, walk over to the other furnace and stand directly in front of it.
Us: (shuffling over to furnace) Okay.
Dad: Look on the left hand side. Do you see a switch? It looks like a light switch.
Dad: Okay well go back over to the other furnace (note: the “other furnace” is two inches away from the furnace he’s having us look at) and stand in front of it.
Us: (shuffling back to the right) We’re here.
Dad: Remember what that switch looks like?
Dad: Look for it on this furnace now instead.
Us: (looking high, looking low, looking under, looking to the right of it, looking to the left of it, peering behind it, standing behind it and peering into cracks with a flashlight). No we don’t see it.
Dad: It’s there. Look again.
(Approximately ten minutes of us constantly searching and him mistrusting our credibility goes on before he says the following)
Dad: Okay, here’s what I want you to do…Go stand in front of the other furnace.
Us: (shuffling) Okay.
Dad: Look to the right of it, do you see a switch?
(At this point, I’m laughing out loud bc I know that he’s baiting us into “getting another look at it so’s we can commit it to memory” so we can find “find the switch” again…Kristyn’s not laughing, out loud anyway, bc she knows he is dead serious. Naturally this is exactly what he’s doing and we end up playing the game for another ten or fifteen minutes.)
So eventually we emphatically say, “There IS no lightswitch!!!” and though he doesn’t believe us, he starts making Kristyn move onto other projects such as:
* Squirting a bunch of goo out of a lever and then pouring into the “utility sink.
* Crawling around on her hands and knees looking at the pilot light under our furnace, then the other one, then our furnace, then the other one, then our furnace, then the other one…seriously expecting that we might find something new each time, haha. This goes on for a while.
* Looking AGAIN for the fabled switch that does not exist.
Finally he tells us “Oh well PSE&G came here today and shut off the furnace that’s probably why it’s not working.” Hahahaha, we were like, “Whaaaat?!” Well I was anyway. So apparently the guy had turned it off and then turned it back on again but forgot to turn ours on.
So this morning, I’ve been on the phone with Kristyn’s Dad on and off all morning. He made me change the batteries in the thermostat, confirm the “intended” and “actual” temperatures in our house a plethora of times…then he (by phone) lured me into the basement again to send me (again) on the hunt for the mysterious switch that doesn’t exist and also to make ME now crawl around on my knees to look back and forth at the pilot lights.
Momma and Kristyn had to sleep with sweatpants, shirts, socks, slippers, hoodies and three blankets. Then I had to take a cold shower too. Needless to say, I didn’t walk to work today bc I couldn’t do more cold on top of all of that cold. My cats’ noses are all cold to the touch and even poor Lucky had to stay in his cage today bc it was way warmer in there than in the front room where he usually chills. Then I get outside and it was fine out, not even that cold…duh.
*UPDATE THOUGH* I just talked to Kristyn’s Dad who said that the PSE&G guy (who was standing in a hidey hole in front of my house when I left him last) went into the house and “turned on the switch”. Kristyn’s Dad could have taken this opportunity to gloat that we were stupid but instead decided to flip the script. Now knowing that a switch does in fact exist, he now tells me that he’s confused because up until the PSE&G guy talked to him just now, he had thought there wasn’t a switch at all and though he was trying to make us find it, it was really pretty much a lark. Now he wants to know where the switch is, hahahahahahahahahaha….I can’t.
2. Because of all of my “indoor weather problems”, I missed my bus. I had to call a cab and guess who showed up? The cab driver who always hints that he’d enjoy it if I sat in the front with him so he can “take our relationship to a newer, more inappropriate level”. So I was talking to the man in the hidey hole when I saw the cab idling on the corner (bc naturally my entire street is closed off, as per usual). I bid adieu to the PSE&G guy and take off running so that the cab won’t abandon me (as Schuyler cabs love to do). I see my wee friend and he scuttles out of his cab jubilant to see me. I am suspicious when he starts wandering around the cab in front of me wishing more than anything he’d just sit down and not start any crap. I’m terrified he’s going to open my door for me so you can imagine my horror when he opens the FRONT DOOR for me and invites me to “hop on in”. I’m proud of me in this instance because for once I did not act like a doormat and comply. I said, “No” and then resolutely sat my wide ass down in the backseat of the car. He was visibly disappointed at first attempting to cajole me into his “front seat of molestation/love” by whispering sweet nothings such as “I won’t bite…”. If that’s not “Big Bag Wolf-esque” I don’t know what is. Because I wouldn’t respond, he said it like three times until I finally gave a clearly fake uncomfortable laugh, said, “Yeah…” and abruptly changed the topic. He tried to get back into it a bunch of times but I wouldn’t allow it. Little does he know that he is almost on my last nerve and you guys all know that my last nerve (while being a long ways away at any given moment) is usually pretty remarkable once you’ve reached it and neckas sure as hell don’t want to be on it. So next time I’m bound to tell him in the politest way possible to quit being a creep and to stop hitting on a married woman. (Yes I have an entire fabrication to go with this relationship predicated on the fact that I am a happily married woman and that my multi-colored mood ring that I wear on my ring finger is in fact my wedding band. It’s not my fault he can’t judge a mood ring from a wedding ring.)
3. I have pinkeye. Yes, that’s right. Momma has pinkeye. I looked it up today and found that I could have gotten it any number of ways but this is the one that concerns me the most (culled, natch, from my best friend and yours…Wikipedia):
• Pink eye is also caused when fecal matter comes in contact with the eyelid.
Now I’m not a religious person…although the other day I told Kristyn that I’d considered going back to Catholocism because of a recent vague boredness and wanting to have something to be blindly faithful in…but I think I’m going to get down on my cheeky wee lass’ knees and pray to the baby Jesus that I have not at any point in my life smeared fecal matter into my eyeball…OR that if I have, I never do it again OR that I never find out I have.
Coincidentally, I have an eye appointment this Saturday and when I called today to find out if that would be conflict of interest somehow, the nurse flipped out and tried to get me to go there RIGHT NOW to get drops. I told her that the roof wasn’t on fire and that I could hold my horses until Saturday but she wasn’t satisfied with that answer. Again, she was skeptical of my reasoning and logic (which is a recurrent pattern that I guess I should start considering) and basically plead for me to rethink my conviction. With that, she told me she’d talk to the doctor and call me back.
In the meantime, I called my mother, who is an RN and frequent pink eye sufferer. Contrary to my mother’s typically blasé advice, she advised to “Leave work NOW! What are you crazy?! You’re going to infect the entire damn office! Get out of there! Leave!” Now if I were suffering from a broken wrist (as my brother did on or around the summer of 1997), she would wait a few days before suggesting that it might be time to seek the advice of a medical professional. Pink eye though, you don’t fuck with pink eye, haha…So I talked to my boss and she basically also told me to hit the hills…so I guess I’m going to go home now to my (potentially) cold house. I have a couple more problems that I’d like to lay on you but for the time being, I have a pink eye fire to put out and in the best interest of all who surround me, it’s time to go home and rest that fuschia eye of mine.