"All words are symbols that represent unspeakable realities. Which is also why words are magical." (Donald Miller tweet)

Friday, June 08, 2012

not blown up

I was going to wait until the work was done, before telling the story. But ... I'm not a patient person.

You may remember that plumbers were coming.

They started two days ago. Big Boss Dude with Cheerfully Loud Voice showed up bright and early, got the crew started with a rousing hymn, and then moved on with other unidentified Big Boss Activities. I went to work without any worries - after all, they're just digging two small holes, and then magically, our water forevermore comes in without lead, and goes out without dodging masses of tree roots.

What could possibly go wrong?

Partway through the day, the Estimate Dude called. "Remember that problem that we all knew was there, but we couldn't see it until we dug it up, and we were hoping it would be a City problem? ... It's not. It's your problem."

And thus Hole #3 was authorized, for a small additional fee.

On the way home, my phone rang with an unknown number and Spike's picture popped up. Spike had been out of range for the entire day, and I was elated to see that he was calling. I forgot - again - that I recently put his photo where bland wallpaper used to be on my phone, and answered, "Hey Baby!"


"Um ... I'm not ... this isn't your Baby ..."

That's right.

I did it AGAIN.

I forgot that just because Spike's picture is on my phone, it does not mean that it is he who is calling. TWICE, I have answered "Hey Baby" to complete strangers. Both strangers, ironically, were from the same plumbing company.


Got home and introduced myself to the Crew Boss Dude, assuring him that I am happily married and was NOT hitting on him when he called. Looked around and realized that my idea of a "small hole" is entirely different from theirs. I mentioned this, and C.B.D. blinked and said, "This IS a small hole." And as another friend pointed out - it WAS a small Bobcat.

Chuckles all around, and then ... "We hit another snag."

And thus Hole #4 was authorized, no additional fee. (I think.)

They left, I ate a quick bowl of soup, and headed off to an evening meeting.

And then yesterday happened.

Yesterday started fantastically.

C.B.D. and crew came. We're all buddies now, since I'm so friendly on the phone. I left for work.

What could possibly go wrong?

Around noon I got a Facebook message from a friend whose high-rise balcony overlooks my house. "Um, do you know there are firetrucks and cops in front of your house? And the street is closed off."

No. I did not know that.

While I was phoning the plumbing company, and pleasantly inquiring if there was anything they'd like to tell me, a neighbour left me a voicemail - "Patti ... um ... do you know ... you probably know ... I hope you know ...." Then she called back to apologize for forgetting to say "Pastor" in her message. Because I'm just that intimidating.

They had hit a gas line. Dude With Whom I Co-Pastor suggested that I might want to go home.

So I did. Parked a half block away.

Which reminds me - my car is still a half block away. I should go get it.

Said hello to the nice police officer blocking off the end of my street, and together we stood gazing at the gaggle of firetrucks, and people in uniforms, and neighbours standing on front porches. "I'm the homeowner," I said. It was a good conversation opener.

Walked down the street - once they allowed it - waving like royalty to various neighbours. Asked C.B.D. why he would want to blow up our house, since I had been so nice on the phone the day before.

Poor guy. He looked like Spike looks when he's having a really, really bad day. Which is to say, red-faced and possibly nauseous. I attempted to offer comfort. "Dude - mistakes happen. For example, I'm a pastor who keeps saying 'Hey Baby' to strangers on the phone."

The firemen cleared the house for entry. The gas dudes turned the gas back on. I found the hydro breaker and turned it back on. The plumbers got back to work.

And then ... without warning ... the heavens opened ... and rain such as was in the time of Noah teemed down, filling the holes faster than they could empty them. Forked lightning cracked down from the sky, threatening divine judgment on plumbers digging holes. They had to stop, defeated.

So for one night, I had water coming into the house, in appropriate ways. But anything going out simply poured into a ... hole. In the front yard.

So that was worth considering.

And Spike - well, he agrees that I should remove his picture from my phone's background display, since clearly I can't be trusted with it.

It's a good picture though, isn't it?

Note: Some readers will know which plumbing company it was, because I've recommended them to many of you - please don't name them in your comments! I promised I wouldn't. They're a great, locally owned company - we've used them for years - and we'll use them again. Thanks!


Grant said...

Did you get the firemen to sign your calendar since your so friendily. Seriously Patti your the best, most people would have had meltdown or broke down and cried, you just take it all it strain and just grin...You go Pastor Patti :-)

Derbecker said...

As weirdness goes, you win. :)

Grant said...

Woops, Stride that is, thats what happens after your trying to post after a 12 hour work shift LOL

Dwayne Milley said...

OK. That totally sucks, and is so very, very funny.

But what can you do? At least the house didn't blow up!

Bob said...

look on the bright side P2 - you now have lots of new sermon illustrations

Mar & I know what you are going through - we will have to get together soon & share reno stories.

Heather F. said...

The adventures of Pastor Patti... wow... makes life interesting though, no? Definitely funny, at least for us... while we feel your pain. ;) Millhouse even let everyone live - I hear it could be questionable sometimes. So good kitty! :)