Just Plumb Inconvenient

Today is not a good day for the plumber to come to my house.  Unfortunately, it is a necessity.  We had another home improvement job go wrong and now we need a professional to come fix it.  Plus several things are leaking and we have a home warranty so we don't need to fiddle with this kind of nonsense.  

So, yes, we need the plumber to come today, but no, I don't have to like it.  

Here are a few reasons why not.  

One:  it is pouring rain outside.  I told them I needed a call before they come since I would be at work.  Forty-five minutes before the designated window of plumber-time, I got the call.  The plumber was on his way.  I changed out of my heels and rolled my pants far up on my dry, unshaven legs, grabbed my tiny umbrella and sprinted through the flooded parking lot to my car, which was located nearly 1/2 a mile away (I'm a bit alarmed by my lack of physical fitness... time to resume my half-marathon training).  Needless to say I was soaked and a bit crabby.  Getting these jeans soaking wet and then dry again is not doing any favors for the squeeze they are putting on my thighs.

Two:  our house looks like it puked all over itself.  There is folded laundry on many surfaces (I'll put them away soon, I promise!) and our bedroom can't even be spoken about, it's so ridiculous.  I did half-attempt to make our bed this morning, but Eli could have done a better job (P.S. after I made it, I spent 8 minutes looking for our phones, only to find that I had buried them in the sheets of poorly made bed).  The plumber has to walk through my bedroom to get to our leaky shower.  All plans of cleaning up after ourselves went out the window this morning as we were running around horrifically late.  

Three:  the first thing the plumber saw when he walked in our house was a giant 1.75 Liter bottle of vodka on the counter (shown below - all that stuff behind it had to come out of my cabinet so he could get to the broken pipe - minus the random orange and candle).  So now he thinks we are messy alcoholics.  This bottle is about 18 inches tall, hard to miss.  In our defense, it doesn't belong to us... we are just babysitting it. 

On a side note, I was just stooping down to grab something from the bottom of my pantry when the plumber walked back in from his truck.  I realized that ironically, I was the one showing my buttcrack in the kitchen.  Though as repayment, I just glanced over at him leaning under my sink...

Four:  I have an urgent need to urinate.  Since the plumber arrived at our house shortly after I did, I was unable to go to the bathroom.  I could have run to another bathroom after he got here, but for some reason the sound of the toilet flushing seemed too embarrassing.  He knows too well what's going on with flushes.  Now the water is turned off and there is no such opportunity.  So here I sit, a bit fidgety, next to Lorenzo who is alternately giving the plumber the stink eye then accosting him.  

I think that pretty much rounds up my list.  At least this is a nice plumber.  I hope he doesn't vomit when he pulls a giant hairball out of our drain.  It's really not my fault that my hair falls out so much, even my scalp doesn't want to associate with this poofy mess.  

I wonder if I should give him a tip and tell him to forget the things he saw in this house... maybe I will send Fat Linda home with him.  That's the gift that continues to give for a long time (way too long).