Friday, July 25, 2003

Get out of town.

I'm leaving my apartment. No, really. I'm serious. It's not just my dreams of a better life anymore. It's about my damn need for hot water.

This is beyond ridiculous.

My landlord tells me that it's not his fault or a malfunction in the water heater that's led it to break three times this month, making me even more stressed than I have been as a result of the two jobs, the change-of-bosses at McGraw Hill, the car repair, the hurts-so-much-I-can't-move foot pain at the bookstore that led me to seriously consider buying those expensive damn shoes, the bills to pay and the failed attempts at, what's the proper word, courtship. My landlord says the city is inadvertantly causing my lack of a hot shower.

I have money saved now. Not "enough" per se, nor as much as I would like, but this whole hot water situation has me frustrated. I mean, this is downright bullshit, going three weeks without regular hot water. I feel like asking my mom for help ... and that means the situation is pretty damn dire.

I shouldn't have to leave sugary sweet, highly fucking tolerant messages on my landlord's voicemail, "Um, I'm so sorry to bother you, but the hot water heater is off again." I shouldn't have to use my friend Larry's spare room - the week of his retirement, no less, when he has too much to do besides worry about me. I shouldn't know how many times I have to fill up the percolator to get a pleasant amount of bathwater.

How quickly can this be solved? How quickly can I save myself?

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