Nothing about Monday went quite as planned. I had to pull (nag) Mr FD out of bed early for him to contact a plumber. Now, I am not one of those women who think plumbing is a man’s area and therefore I can’t, or won’t phone a plumber. No. It is just that, as evidenced by yesterday’s post, Mr FD had his head down the grease trap and so had a vague idea of what needed to be discussed. So, I performed my role as wife, and promoted (nagged) the early morning phone call. Mr FD declared triumphantly that the plumber was named Red, and promised to be over in about an hour!
SON was standing on the patio when he saw the plumber drive up the neighbours’ drive way, and then leave again. People are always going up the neighbouring driveway despite our clear instructions as to where the drive entrance is located. It is because there is a shrub concealing the driveway, and I have “suggested” on more than one occasion that Mr FD needs to remove said tree, or at least prune it down low. (I know what I would like to prune down low!) His defence, of which he obviously has many, is that he likes the privacy! My reply is, “Remember that when the ambulance can’t find you!”
We convinced ourselves that the plumber was stupid and not being able to find us, ran away. Mr FD showed surprising initiative and rang Red the plumber to explain the issue. He promised to pass on the directions to his son who was to be our plumber for the day. Half an hour later he arrived, and first we were enlightened that “Red” was in fact “Greg” and never would be “Red” no matter how many times Mr FD insisted on calling him the wrong name! Also seems that our plumber was also doing a job for our neighbour who owned a rental property not far away and so had gone between both places. How to make a good first impression right?
Turns out the problem wasn’t the grease trap, but tree roots blocking the grey water system. The problem was soon solved, and the bill will follow in the mail.
Late afternoon, thunder storms rolled in, and after an incredible crack of lightning and thunder we lost power – for the next three hours. Loss of power for us, also means loss of water as our house is situated above a council water tank, that apparently uses an electric pump to get the water up the hill to the houses on our side of the hill.
We made a pact to only flush the toilet if we really had too (two, get it? number two! I know so witty). First time I went in, I kept repeating to myself “don’t flush, don’t flush”. A bit like Basil Fawlty and “don’t mention the war” – yes, I went to automatic pilot and flushed, even though it wasn’t absolutely required. Luckily, we have a second toilet! True to nature, Mr FD had to follow my lead but he really did have to flush, and so we were left with two empty cisterns.
After a drink (from the fridge) to consider his options, Mr FD and Augie Dog walked down the hill to fetch two pails of water from the tanks to refill. Oddly, no one needed to use the facilities after that!
Nothing much to do, except fill our wine glasses and sit on the patio in what was I tried to tell myself was cool air.
Mr FD has taken to watching TV with the volume down and the captions on, so as not to disturb me at night during his late viewing. This was not an issue with our previous two storey house, but now we are in a low set, and someone’s hearing is not as pristine as it once was, so after I “suggest” (yell) that the TV is too loud he goes to captions. Survival skills, they make marriage workable.
Sitting on the patio, drink in hand, there was nothing more to do than listen to the birds… and the dogs…and the cars in the distance. You get it. Mr FD, who is quite taken with the caption idea, started verbalising the sounds as captions. A bird would tweet, and he would say, “A bird tweets”. Dog barks, “Dog barks in the distance”. This went on for about twenty minutes after which I informed Mr FD that he should never join a meditation group, as they would not appreciate him narrating the background sounds as they tuned in, acknowledged and released their surroundings.
I refilled my glass.