Landlady called. We have agreed they will do the work while we are in the US, a couple months from now. The plumbers will return tomorrow to repair plaster up the walls, reassemble the shelving units, and generally put things back where they were two days ago.

I, of course, will then need to scrub the floor-- several times, by the look of it-- as well as every other surface in the apartment. Some of these, admittedly, needed to be done before the first plumber strolled through the door, as I ceased almost all cleaning activity from the moment I knew they were coming. But hey, what's the point of cleaning if it's only going to get dirty? Then I'll have to unpack all the stuff currently piled on top of the bookcases, in boxes, in the dishwasher, the oven, and in various bags on the couch. Lay out the carpets, give 'em a quick vacuum, and I'll have my life back.

You know, there are better ways to spring-clean.

Bonus: I talked to Landlady about the Air Conditioner Issue. I will not spend another Milanese summer without it. And, theoretically, I won't have to. AC Guy, who came and surveyed and did all sorts of high level math will not be doing the job. No, this is a job for The Three Plumbers. Who I imagine are much, much cheaper. But they did do the heating, and it still works, so I'll keep an open mind. (They're much, much more than plumbers, you see!) So anyway, they'll probably be coming in a month or so, once they've discussed which model to get and so forth.

I do know, because Middle Plumber told me, that they plan to install just one unit, albeit a super-strong kick-ass unit. They will do this by drilling a large hole high up in the wall in the middle of the living room, right between the balcony doors and the window. You get maximum dust dispersion that way, you know.

W called when he finished at the doctor, who told him that he did not, in fact, have pneumonia, but is "suffering from some sort of bug." I like Dr. F. He doesn't try to confuse you with elaborate medical jargon. W now has two types of cough medicine (one with codiene, for nights) to add to our stash of shit-that-don't-work, and antibiotics. He also told W to stay home a few days and rest. When W got back, he was on the phone to work and conned someone into dropping off his laptop this weekend. I figure he knew I'd say no if he asked me to haul up there and get it for him. There goes the "rest" component, as he will like as not be up half the night playing solitaire, as is his wont.

W went to McDonalds on the way home, forcing me to eat alone. Again. "But, I knew you wouldn't want to go to McDonalds." Which is true. I won't eat there at home, so why come to Italy for a Big Mac? I really hate eating alone in restaurants, so found some cheese and made a sandwich. Also, again. Tomorrow, however, I had already agreed to meet Martha for a quick bite because she needs to come downtown anyway. My plan is to turn it into a nice, leisurely type of affair, and leave the plumbers to W. See how he likes it and all that.

W has apologized profusely for being such a pain in the ass lately. He also said "I'm just trying to stay out of your way while I'm home for the next few days" in order not to annoy me further. I almost told him that I didn't want apologies, I just don't want him to act like that anymore and to remember it the next time. Which is the truth, but sounds waaaay too much like my mother for comfort.

W also stopped by Mondadori on the way back from the doctor's, and got some new DVDs. He got Buffy Season 3 Part 1, and X Files Season 2. I'd already bought Buffy Part 1 and Season 3 of X Files, but couldn't find the ones before. Italian Tip: if you think you'll want it later, buy it now because it won't be there later. They didn't have either of the ones I bought earlier at the store today.

Odd, that. Usually, you search and search, and after you find whatever it was you were looking for it's all over the place.

So I forsee an evening of vampire kicking and odd alien encounters. After, of course, we have dinner downstairs. The kitchen is still out of comission, and I have next to no food in the house. Well, there's lentils and other good-for-you grains that W refuses to eat, but the pots I usually use are boxed up anyway, and the stove is still a storage unit. There's a trattoria in our very building, so it's close, and W appears to be suitably chastened and should be docile.

I really can't face another cheese sandwich.