SWEET HOME ALABAMA

This morning, for the first time in like forever, since flying home was totally out of the question because of a snowstorm, I decided to put off taking my shower and washing my hair until tonight.  I called the airline and arranged the same flight for tomorrow morning, slipped into an old pair of jeans (what did I tell you?  I am already back in my old comfortable worn-out jeans) and a sweatshirt and settled in to work for awhile.

Ginny and I did venture out to Walmart, and when we returned home, I sat back down to work for a bit, and she said, "I'm going to go downstairs and start some laundry." 

Grunting in her direction to show her I acknowledged she would be out of the room, it was about thirty seconds before I heard her say, "Oh, my God."  I yelled, "Ginny, what's wrong?"  "Oh, my God!"  

By this time concern was registering, and I rushed down the stairs to find my friend standing ankle deep in water and could hear the steady hisssssssss of something leaking.

It did not take long to figure out the water heater had gone belly up.  Phone calls were made, and no sooner did I realize we had no water, that I began to have to use the bathroom.  

We sat around the better part of the afternoon.  I kept my mind off the bathroom situation by working harder at my transcription job.  I was, though, secretly quite relieved to see the plumber's truck pull in the driveway.  There they were, to the rescue!  Already I was dreaming of my shower and getting to use the indoor facilities, as opposed to having to find a tree behind the house, in the dark, cold, dreary, probably snake-riddled nature center, a.k.a. woods. 

John sent us to Ace Hardware, where we met friendly folks like the Ace Hardware Man.  I also found a bathroom there.  When we pulled back in here, the plumber informed us that A) It was Ginny's fault, and B) There would be no hot water tonight.  Sigh.

So, as we speak, I am heating a pan of water, preparing to somehow wash my hair.  Nobody will want to sit by me in the close quarters of a 737-300 Series Southwest Airlines jet, even if the flight IS only an hour long, if I don't have a wash-up tonight.

It is not lost on me that almost every time I go somewhere, a plumbing disaster accompanies me, wildfires spring up in my path, or quakes rattle, rumble, and roll where I have strolled.  Maybe I should cancel all plans for any future trips...unless your love for my company negates the negativity you might feel toward me when your pipes burst or your fireplace leaks gas or your water heater bites the dust.