Just like old times, eh?

I should have seen it coming, really. Remember my dishwasher? The one that hates me? Well, I finally figured out, some time back, that it would only work every third day. That is, if you run one load on Monday, it will refuse to run another load until approximately the same time on Thursday. It's the weirdest thing, really. Do dishwashers get vapor lock? Because that's the only explanation I can come up with, aside from extreme old age and decrepitude, and if that's the case, why not retire all together? Anyhoo... I ran a load of dishes on Wednesday, after running one on Monday, and it worked! I was planning to gradually decrease the time and see just how often it was prepared to work for me. I was excited.

And now, no water. I really should have known better.

Luckily, we belong to the gym not even half a block away. Luckily, they do have water. Elvis has already been, and reports a wonderful shower experience. He also reports that our porteiro (the caretaker of our apartment building) is downstairs at his desk in the lobby, surrounded by a mob of cranky, unwashed people. Apparently, the plumber was to have come at nine. I just peeked out the window, and saw what appears to be a plumber-type truck just pull up. It's almost 10:00 now.

Only an hour late! Puts those Italian plumbers to shame! (I would link to an older entry, but there are just too many relevant ones to choose from.)

I was planning to go to the gym anyway today, so I'll be going in half an hour or so (when the regular morning fanatics have finished and the place pretty much clears out), and showering afterwards. Usually, I just come back and shower at home since it's so close.

To be honest, I had planned to go to the gym yesterday. I didn't, though, because I'm currently inflicted with a horrendous case of constipation. The kind with the painful gas and the apparent boulder in your pelvis, where it hurts to sit down. Or stand up. Or bend over. Or almost anything, really. The thought of trying to lift weights under such conditions, aside from being ludicrous, was-- well, ludicrous. So I stuck close to home and the toilet, gave it a go every few hours, ate things with lots of fiber and so forth.

So, I've been dealing with this for three days now, and you know what? I think I'm ready to go commit a truly satisfying dump. But--- there's no water, which presents a dilemma if you know what I mean and I think you do. I'm not particularly enamoured of taking it to the gym, either. It's really the kind of thing that cries out for your own home toilet, with perhaps a cigarette and a glossy magazine thrown in.

I looked out the window again. Why, I don't know. It's not as if I could tell what was going on and how the plumber is faring by looking at his truck-- the truck is hardly going to wave at me and give me the thumbs up or down, or hold up a sign saying '20 Minutes'-- but I did it anyway and I noticed something. It's not a plumber's truck: it's an electricians truck. Possibly the problem has something to do with an electric water pump or something along those lines. Possibly he's here on an unrelated matter. Possibly our porteiro has gone and hired one of those 'jack of all trades, master of none' cowboys, just like my Italian Landlady.

Please tell me it's not that. Please.

Whatever it is, Decision Time is approaching rapidly, I feel.