I'm waiting for someone to come fix something. Jeez, what else would I be doing? Really, people.

But this time, this time, it's different. I am waiting for Authorized Service Personnel to come and fix my washing machine.

Let's just say that again, shall we?

Authorized Service Personnel.

Gosh, that sounds so good I almost had an orgasm just now.

That's right. No more Bastard Cowboy Plumbers. Authorized Service Personnel. I can see the looks of envy and amazement. "But Dilettante, how did you manage to pull that one off?"

Let me explain. On Monday, on the train back from Liguria, I called Landlady to inform her of the laundry crisis. She informed me that she'd been studying the contract over the weekend, and while structural type problems-- heating, air conditioning, plumbing-- were her responsibility, things like washing machines fell under maintenance and were the problem of ourselves and the Italian Division, which is the actual leaseholder.

I wish she'd have figured that one out sooner.

Although admittedly, most of the things wrong with this place have been of a structural nature: heating (twice plus half); air-conditioning (three times plus half); dishwasher (caused by faulty plumbing); and plumbing (countless times). I never did call her about the fridge, just kept mopping up and defrosting. The fridge problems were caused by the 100F plus temperatures in this place with the air is not conditioned during the summer, and hasn't really been a problem lately. The poor thing is just old.

The washing machine has pulled this one before, and the Bastard Plumber looked at it since he was here anyway. All he did was touch it and it started working, but I've gone over that one before and won't get into it here.

So, Elvis went in to work Monday after we got back, and talked to the Italians. They said we should find someone to take care of it, and if it turns out (as I suspect) to be caused by the plumbing, they'll get Landlady to pay up. I found the number of the Authorized Service Personnel, and an Italian friend called them yesterday, so we could make sure they understood what the problem is and knew what to expect. They're coming today.

Authorized Service Personnel.

Love it.

I have so much to write about. Spoiled for choice, really. Since I don't know for sure when the ASP are coming and how long they'll be here, I'll just assume that I've got all the time in the world and go back to where I left off.

And whoops, they're here.

And now he's gone. Five minutes, twenty-five Euros.

It's a plumbing problem.

Damn.

Right. Just talked to Angie, and I'm going to do what any real woman would do in the situation I'm in.

I am going out to lunch.