Last night I went for a few drinks with some neighbors, and when I came back the house was cold.

Very cold.

A pissed-off Angus looked at me wryly and confirmed that the heating was dead. The boiler is dead. Basically, with the exception of the fireplace and my hair dryer, that all possible sources of heating in the household are dead. This, as we enter the coldest week of the year so far and enjoy the snowfall. When you try to run hot water, the water heater sounds like Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang, and the water comes out cold anyway. Angus called the letting agency and got the emergency number-the engineer has been out here today but doesn't think he'll have it fixed until later today (hopefully), as he needs some spare parts.

The house is so fucking cold that Anne Rice could use it as a mood setting for her next Goth vampire novel.

The fire is roaring away, I'm wearing enough clothing to look like the Michelin man, my nipples fell off somewhere upstairs and are now being used as cat toys, and we have to go to the gym to shower shortly, once our conference calls conclude.

Hot water is one of my trigger points. We all have one, it can be something big, it can be something small. Some people get wildly angry if they bang their head, others light up like a Roman Candle if they have to wait in a line. Some get wound up tight over the electricity bill, and others go postal if their clothes aren't spaced apart just so. For me, the single best reason to start a civil war is hot water. Bloodshed is acceptable if it means the difference between a lukewarm and a hot shower.

The house I lived in Sweden had a teeny-tiny hot water heater. There was enough hot water for one person's half shower, the other half of the shower and anyone to follow after that was fucked. I used to go wild with anger every single morning as I battled to shower as fast as humanly possible, soaping and shaving simultaneously and winding up with razor burn like shingles down half of my body.

My biggest requirement for the new house is this-there must be hot water a-plenty. I'm not sure Angus gets how wildly religious I am about the hot water. I like my showers HOT. I like my showers HOT and LONG, and if that means a higher electricity bill then that's a price I'm willing to pay. A hot shower that goes cold is like ripping off my fingernails-it makes me crazy. I don't have strong opinions about a lot of things, but I go off the meter on the hot water.

We've started gathering our kit for holiday-so far the list of things to bring is beginning to far outweigh our packing abilities. I can't believe it's three days away-we leave Monday lunchtime, and I cannot wait. I bought a nice floaty cover-up sundress for the Cook Island days, and we've been checking on the weather constantly for both Cook Islands and New Zealand. We have a day layover in Los Angeles on the way over (it just worked out that way with the flights), which we will spend at Disneyland. We are very, very excited about the whole holiday, and each and every day is booked with something to do, which feels very rewarding.

The work side of things is nearly done, as I'm pretty much planning on bunking off at lunchtime today. I'm nervous about taking time away in some aspects-every time I go away and come back, it's only to be catapult into the more fluffy version of hell. People drink out of the Drink Me bottle and become unrecognizable on my return, as I search for the White Rabbit and they try to find ways to take me to mock trial. The good news is, the job? She is not me, she is still not my life. The bad news is it is a big part of my life, and one I have to live with.

So I tear my attention away from fucked up heaters, from meeting calls and too many things to do in too little time. I don't think about the fact that the house is a mess, but we don't care as upon our return from holiday it's all getting packed up anyway and moved to the new place, where there is space enough for everything. I don't worry about how many books to bring (Angus is only taking one book. One! Who can survive two and a bit weeks on holiday with just one book?) I try to dial down the stress on the actual trip itself, the airports, the air time, the hassle. I don't dwell on things that hurt and things that ache, as soon there will be snorkeling, and that is my soothing balm for the soul (and I get to try out my new snorkel, called a 'dry snorkel' and equipped with a purge valve). Checking the weather seems to be depressing-everywhere we go it's hot just until the day we arrive, then suddenly it rains.

But that's ok. As long as there's hot water in all of the places we stay, I won't mind.

-H.

PS-there is hopefully a great big change coming this weekend....Fancy a guess?

PPS-I KNOW! I am refreshingly un-original lately and my posts have a boring suck factor so high they can be used to seduce wild animals into a state of calm. I am hoping that the holiday helps refresh the batteries. If not, well, there goes my career as a jingle writer.

Posted by: Everydaystranger at 11:56 AM | Comments (22) | Add Comment
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