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Mother and son--who's taller?
Jordan wins by a hair but not for long.
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After a day that was
just a beat off, it was a delight to have happy hour with Jordan and Mary
tonight. Prudence couldn’t join us because her husband was still doing surgery,
so she had no babysitter. But she breezed by with crème brulee and individual
chocolate mousse cakes. If that girl ever walks into my cottage empty-handed, I
will probably fall over in a faint.
We had a jolly
time. Mary is on a kick of doing one fun thing every day for a month leading
ujp to a decade-changing birthday—you can guess which decade because I’m not
going to tell. Tonight, we were her fun thing, which put a burden on us to be
extra bright and gay. But I guess we managed because she seemed quite happy
about the evening.
A highlight was
when Jacob came out, and we had a measuring contest to see who was taller—Jacob
or his mom. We did that last night too—he’s even with his dad and almost even with
me (I have shrunk with age, which happens to most people).
When Mary left and
Jordan went inside, I had salmon salad (salmon left from Sunday night supper)
for dinner, followed by half a crème brulee. Just couldn’t do the whole thing.
For the salmon, I simply broke it up with a fork, added diced cucumber and
green onion, a healthy squeeze of lemon, and some mayonnaise. So good.
But the day was
not so good. I couldn’t settle down and get any real work done while first
waiting for the roto-rooter guy and then waiting for them to leave. They
arrived about ten-thirty—two men. One was the clean-out guy, the one who
actually broke up whatever was stopping up the commode; the other was the
camera guy and estimator, Now the presence of an estimator alerted me to the
fact that they expected, hoped, to find a major problem to repair, and I was wary
from the start. The clean-out visit, for which I was to pay today, was high, I
thought (later confirmed by my regular plumber). But with heavy, whining, loud
equipment, they cleared whatever was blocking the line and ran a camera through
to find the problem.
The estimator
showed me the video of what they found, but hey! My degree is in literature, not plumbing. He could have told me that was the moon, and I’d
probably have believed him. When he quoted the repair price, I was in danger of
fainting, except that I knew all along I wasn’t doing repairs without calling
Woodie Woods, the company I’ve used for years. So I calmly said, “Do you mind
if I get a second opinion?” He was affable about it, said not at all, but I
heard him talking to his boss and repeating what I’d said, which was “I’m a doctor’s wife, and I always
want a second opinion.” Okay, it’s been forty years since I was a doctor’s
wife, so maybe I fudged a little.
The cleanout guy
was responsible for today’s bill, and when I paid him, he began to talk about a
chemical that would make my drains flow more smoothly and I really needed it
and was I interested in it today? After what I’d spent with him, I was not, but
I had to initial a place to show that he’d offered it. A second thought; I
avoid chemicals whenever possible. Our planet earth, you know. Both men
stressed the urgency of the situation and what peril awaited me if I didn’t act
immediately. I think they meant if I didn’t sign right now. I can easily see how
this company makes money.
After they left, I
called the dispatcher at Woodie Woods When I told him what I paid today, he
said, “Ouch!” And when I told him the estimate for repair, he said, “Don’t
touch it.” My regular plumber is on a big remodel job, but they hope to shake
him loose to come here tomorrow. I hope so too. It’s one thing to have Keith in
the house working. He’s been fixing my plumbing for at least twenty years and through two major remodelings, and
I feel like he’s a friend. Having two strangers here this morning was
discombobulating. I will be so glad to have a fully functioning commode back.
Meantime, Jordan
says, “Let’s not talk about plumbing problems anymore.” Why not? It was almost
my whole day.
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