Monday, November 30, 2015

That’s Cold.

On Thanksgiving, I officially hit the “I guess these shrank in the dryer” phase of my weight-gain denial.

Except I don’t have a working dryer at the moment. Or heat. Or hot water.

Saturday afternoon, my neighbor knocked on my door and said he and his wife thought they smelled gas along the side of my place. And holy shit did I get a lesson in how fast people hop-to during a possible gas leak.

The gas company was here within 20 minutes, and discovered there really was a leak, thanks to corroding pipes. Living by the ocean is murder on metal.

The gas for my place was shut off, and this lock placed on the valve until the pipes get replaced and then blessed by the gas company:
I imagine the lock sees some action with people who don’t pay their bill.

Also hustling: my property’s management company, who came out Saturday night, and then again yesterday, and are having plumbers come by to start the job today. It’ll take a few days to fix, and it’s really chilly now, so it kinda sucks shit. Freezing apartment. Freezing shower.

Before anyone says “It’s LA – permanently 72°,” last night’s low here was 45°. But before I bitch too much, I must remind myself after seeing The Martian over the weekend that conditions could be a lot worse. Sounds crazy, but see the film and you’ll know what I mean. (See it anyway. It’s even better than I imagined.)

Gotta go find an afghan. Starting to see my breath.

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