My Cup Runneth Over

Last night we moved into our new home, or at least it felt like a new home since we haven't stayed there for the past two weeks, and the latest of our string of nightmares has come to an end. I'm thankful that we had a place to stay so that we were able to avoid running up an even huger water bill, but I'm even more thankful to be able to sleep in my own bed, shower in my own shower, and shi-nola in my own, er, shi-nola-er.
We were supposed to be back in our house on Wednesday night, but the plumbers extended the job into a two-day affair. To be fair, they had five guys call in sick due to a stomach virus that was running rampant through their offices, or so they said. If that's truly the case, then, by all means, please stay home. Keep your infectious diseases to yourselves, thank you very much.

Two guys showed up Wednesday morning to dig sixty feet of trenching in which they would lay the new pipe. One of the guys sounded like he had the plague. He'd move a couple of shovels full of dirt and then spend the next five minutes hacking and coughing and complaining that he couldn't stop hacking and coughing. The other guy had played in his first pickup basketball game in four years on Tuesday night and could barely move, and he did just that, barely moved. I sat there thinking that we were never going to get back into our house. I felt bad for these guys, but I really needed them to dig a frickin' ditch. At this point, head colds and achy muscles fell squarely into the category of "Not My Problem".

They persevered, and dug throughout the day. Not that speed mattered, because they still had to wait for the "Master Plummer" to show up to tie off the old connections and reconnect the new. He made an appearance at about 12:30 to assess the situation. He had another job to complete and told me that he'd be back in an hour to finish the job at our place. He returned two hours later. By that time, the trench was dug, and the health-challenged trench diggers had been sitting around for at least a half-hour with nothing to do. Shortly after the MP arrived, two more plumbing trucks pulled up in a desperate attempt to complete the job by the end of the day. We now had eight plumbers wandering around investigating the carnage that stretched across the west side of the house. I laughed as I announced to them that there was never a plumber around when you needed one. I was the only one laughing. Apparently, they'd heard that one before. Or they didn't speak English.

The MP reassessed the situation, then declared that this would probably be a good stopping point for the day. He needed about three hours to complete the job and he didn't want to leave us without water overnight. While I was a little disappointed at the realization that I would not be sleeping in my bed that night, I was OK with the decision. The girls were making their theatrical debut later in the evening, and I didn't want to miss it. So all the plumbers scrambled to their respective trucks and called it a day. They would return first thing in the morning to complete the job.

Their idea of "first thing" is different than mine. I arrived back at the house at 7:30 on Thursday morning, but the plumbers didn't arrive until 9:00. Must be nice. The MP then realized that he didn't have all the materials he needed to complete the job, so he left two guys to putz around at our place while he went on a quest for plumbing supplies. He obviously shops for all his plumbing needs in Mexico because he was gone for three hours. I needed to get to work (I had already taken Wednesday off), so I didn't witness the new line being installed. I wasn't very happy when I left because I had also been told that they should be done by noon. Shoulda-coulda-woulda. Fortunately, once the MP returned with all of the necessary materials, he was able to knock out the rest of the job in a brief period of time.

Diane called me at work at 2:00, and I answered my cell phone to the sound of running water. It was probably just in my head, but I swear I heard "The Hallelujah Chorus" blaring in accompaniment as well. Diane then got on the phone and told me in her sweet, sweet voice that I could come home. I felt all the anxiety and frustration lift from my shoulders. I could go home to my bed. Go home to my stuff. It's great to be home.