I can’t seem to write in the blog these days. Partly I am just wiped out, and along with being wiped out I am just plain irritable or perhaps too easily irritated by all the irritating things that seem to be happening. So every time I start to write something I start feeling pissed off…
For example, I was pissed off—I don’t know what night it was—when I heard a noise in the wall of the condo. I decided to ignore and I did, until Carol noticed it and she got all paranoid.
We had this odd stink in our downstairs pantry utility closet where we keep food on shelves.
Somehow the sound and the stink connected for her, and sure enough when she touched the rug in the pantry, it was damp!
So right then I was ready to blow a cork. Not again. Three times in the last three years we have had significant water leaks. One whole summer the kitchen was a mess as they tried to locate, dig up and repair a leak in the slab. Then there was a leak in the utility closet outside where all the hot water heaters are—and that leak completely wiped out our utility closet. We had those horrible drying out machines in there for weeks. As I recollect we had to leave the condo for a few days for that one. And then there was the leak dripping out down out of the light fixture in my newly created closet office …
And now…
Sure enough I listened more closely to the sound. It was a sort of hiss. The previous leaks had not hissed like that, so I went out to the utility closet but of course it was locked. I was pissed and got a crow bar and was about to rip the door open when Carol showed up with a key.
Water on the Floor! That was a tip off, and just looking at the pipes in there pissed me off. My god a regular Rube Goldberg contraption of copper pipe going this way and that and half of it going nowhere. I wanted to take sledge hammer to the whole mess. Fortunately I didn’t have one.
And there it was! A copper pipe up over my head and almost out of my reach had sprung a pinhead leak—that along with the pressure in the pipe produced a thin straight stream of water about a foot long that was directed at the sheet rock and that had managed to open a hole in the sheet rock as big round as my thumb. So the water, having made the hole, was now going right through the hole and had run down the wall and puddled down below and leaked into our closet.
Man! So a guy came yesterday, maybe it was, and pulled up the carpet in our utility but not the little strips of wood with tacks sticking up in them (to which the carpet is appended), so I step on those in my bare feet and am sure the rest of the evening that I am going to die of tetanus.
But I didn’t because I am still here to be irritated.

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