The other day I noticed our street was spewing water slowly. I called 311 and the next day there was a crew there digging up the earth or rather the pavement. The water main for our house had a small rupture. It was easily fixable, but it left us with out running water for close to 36 hours. When we were packing the car to Nan’s to shower the main guy said, “Where are you going, we’re gonna turn the water back on now!” – Of course. Go figure. Just our luck. Regardless it was fine and the water did come on.
But the upstairs bathroom toilet did not stop pushing water. Probably unrelated, it was just odd. So it was wait for a plumber after the landlords called one in or I could take it in my own hands. The parts couldn’t be more than $15 and it would only take 30 minutes to replace the parts inside that were faulty. So after weighing the options I decided to do it myself as toilets are fairly simple mechanical devices. It actually wasn’t too bad other than bumping up my knees a bit on the tile. Yay to new innards in our upstairs bathroom. Get your poop on.
And thank you Emily for the great documentation of me in my boxers making slight adjustments.
Last night from the toilet (#1, mind you) Emily asked me to open one of the doors upstairs as she thought one of the pussies was locked in there. We are closing all the doors upstairs with all the construction to minimize dust distribution. But what is bizarre is how I have filtered out those frequencies when the cats cry so I heard nothing. Yay me.
So I opened the first door. I poked my head in and put my hand to mouth to carry my voice further and said, “HELLO MULLIGAN AND LULU!” Nothing. I crossed the hall, mind you it’s about 8 feel long and opened the guest room door. “HELLO MULLI….” – Just then a sly little pussy, whose name is Mulligan rubs up against my leg. Hmmm. Sneaky bastige.
Emily was laughing from the toilet. I guess she was right about laughing at me. I was yelling and looking for them as if they were 6 feet tall and deaf. Not to mention, human.
I still don’t understand pussy cats.
And on a pussy-side-note (PSN for those in government – pronounced piss-in’) I have started a new game with ours. Our food bowls are on the landing down to the basement. So when I fill their bowl with food they poke their head through the cat door and try and get themselves between my scooper that is pouring food and the bowl. Yes, literally. Thus sometimes allowing themselves to be showered with cat food. They don’t seem to mind, but it makes a huge mess and frustrates me to no end. So I have resorted to keeping a water gun nearby. I am telling you the water gun is my savior. Bring it on, pussy cats. I’ll baptise your ass!