Sunday, February 13, 2005

Sarcasm at it's Finest

Well, I did it again.

After a long hard day of painting, cleaning and preparing the house to sell, we finally called it a day around 8pm.
We very much deserved and highly desired a few dumb hours in front of the television. We put on our favorite fleece pants, slippers and sweatshirts. Mark pulled the up the pay-per-view movie menu and we decided to watch Before Sunrise.
I popped a big bowl of popcorn and turned on the little gas pot belly stove.

"Aaaahhhhhh.....What a day, honey. I am pooped..."
"Me, too. I'm gonna take along hot shower after this movie."

So we settle into the comfy couch and start the movie.
About 5 minutes into it, I smell gas.
Natural gas.

"Do you smell gas?"
"No, but I smell paint."
"Hmmm. Are you sure don't smell gas? Over here?"
"Maybe, but I really think you're smelling cleaning supplies, or the turpentine I used to clean the brushes, or paint."
"Okay, I'm sure you're right. Do you care if I turn off the stove and see if the smell goes away?"
"Sure, Hon. Knock yourself out, but lets watch the movie."

About 10 more minutes pass.

"I'm sorry. I still smell it. Right here, next to the stove."
"Okay, so what if it is gas. Although, I'm sure it is paint. What do you want to do about it?"
"I want to call LG&E and make sure we don't have a leak."

The movie has now been paused for several minutes. For the second time.
I decide, better safe than sorry and call the 24 hour service.
It's free and they have a neat little gas sniffing electronic device that makes crazy noises around gas leaks.
45 minutes later they are knocking on the door.

We stop the movie again. Mark's patience with me is wavering, but he keeps it in check.
The LG&E man is bizarre and talks incessantly, but I listen to the stories of his cheatin' wife and encourage him to check the stove area.
Nothing. Area secure.
I encourage him to check the dining room where I also thought I smelled it.
Nothing. Also secure.
Okay, cool. My mind is now at ease. I must have been smelling paint. Just like Mark insisted.
Boy, that gas man sure can leave now. What is he saying now? His wife gave him a STD from sleeping around? Sheesh!
Did I need to hear that? Okay buddy, sorry I called you out. No leaks here. You can split.

However, even though I am quite obviously thanking him and trying to get him out the door, he continues sticking his little noise-making machine in every nook and cranny in our 120 year old house.
He is determined to find something. He wasn't going to come out for nothing.
Finally, as he's telling the story of his nasty divorce he has a eureka moment. He found 2 or 3 very small leaks, where the gas line connects to the hot water heater, in the basement..
Very, very, very, far away from where I thought I smelled danger.

"Here ya go! A leak. I found it. I'm gonna have to shut down your gas service until a plumber can come fix your connections."

Mark looks at me. Not so pleased. It was paint I was smelling, after all, but my paranoia got the best of both of us and now there will be no hot water for the showers we wanted. There will be no pot belly stove to enjoy while watching the movie. Hell, at this point we have stopped and started the movie so much, there really is no movie to watch.

After the crazy gas man finally made his departure in a whirlwind of cheated-heart blues and bravado, we went back into the house. I start looking for the telephone so I can call Robin and Alice and schedule showers at their house tomorrow. It is the least I can do.
Mark is ignoring me.

"Hon?"
Pause.
He answers flatly, "Yes, dear?"

"Honey, do you see the phone anywhere?"
Short pause.
"No, but I think I might SMELL it. Why don't you call the phone company and have them come check it out?"

Ha ha....
Well at least one of us was laughing.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

How do you live with this smart-ass?
Hopefully you will answer "happily".
I love you baby...Hope you have a wonderful Valentine's Day.

Love,
The Smart-Ass in the Jar

Monday, 14 February, 2005  
Anonymous patrick said...

No one likes a smart-ass more than the smart-asses mate. I love that.

Tuesday, 22 February, 2005  

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