The 1st & 2nd Most Depressing Things Today

The Most Depressing Thing Today, Number 1:

This weekend I was reintroduced to a delicious treat known as the Hot Buttered Rum. My first introduction was when I was eight years old and I stole some from my Dad at Christmas. To my delicate eight year old palate, it was very gross. A zillion years later I had my second, which was this weekend. This time it was AWESOME.

As I'm going to be stuck here while the plumbers and the water cleaner-uppers have their way with my garage, my bank account and my child-like innocence, I thought I might zip to the liqueur store for the appropriate supplies. Also, the impending Snow Apocalypse looming on the horizon will make driving a hassle and I don't want a Hot Buttered Rum bad enough to use Four Wheel Drive to get one.

So off I went, and arrived at the store thirteen minutes later. The lights were on at the store, this was going to be no problem. This was going to be a simple in-and-out operation.

They were closed. Apparently it was nine thirty in the morning. According to the sign on the front, they open at ten. Then it dawned on me that perhaps I'm an alcoholic as I was at the liqueur store (a) before noon, and (b) before they were open.

The Most Depressing Thing Today, Number 2:

I was not the only one. There were at least three other people looking for some early morning booze.

I have to go lie down now.

The Super Awesome Adventures of A. Jonathan Cox

I rule. I rule so hard that I had both the Fire Department AND the Police Department at my house today. That's right sucka-faces! I roll two public services deep! Apparently one of our water pipes (not a bong) exploded and spent the rest of the afternoon spraying water all over the inside of my garage. The water, as I imagined it, was like the water show at the Bellagio, but with less music.

I'm not sure how the Fire Department got involved as this is the exact opposite of a fire, but nonetheless, they broke into my house (via a very long ladder and a slightly ajar window). From there they let their cohorts, the Police, in through the front door. It's an ingenious scheme really. The fuzz, using their top notch detective skills, found my wife's phone number in her check book that was on the counter.

About twenty minutes later I bombed into my driveway and parked next to the cops. They gave me the low down, wished me good luck and then went home to their houses that are not flooded. And I spent the rest of the afternoon calling plumbers and water cleaner uppers.

Several lessons were learned...

(1) When a plumber says "yeah, we can have someone out there tonight and totally save the day, no problem, you can count on me," what they really mean is "I'll tell you what you want to hear and then someone from my office will call you to reschedule because I don't know what I'm talking about. "

(2) When the water cleaner-upper says "yeah, we can have someone out there tonight and totally save the day, no problem, you can count on me," what they really mean is "I'll tell you what you want to hear and then someone from my office will call you to reschedule because I don't know what I'm talking about."

(3) The water pipe (not a bong) that leads to the spout on the side of my garage actually runs through the uninsulated attic, and not through the insulated wall like I thought. Huh. Who knew?

(4) The mysterious blue knob on the other side of my garage actually shuts the water off to aforementioned pipe. Huh. Who knew?

(5) I rule harder than I previously thought.

Hey...

I should really update this thing...