Worse things happen at sea

The work on the house continues.

The decorator left having completed two bedrooms, landing, stairs and hallway.

On Tuesday a nice man will arrive to fit curtains in the two rooms.

The builder and his various colleagues have been beavering away in the basement remodelling the utility area.



Only today, they hit a snag...where "snag" = gas pipe which was buried in a concrete floor they were digging up to do something with a soil pipe.

There was momentary fluster, alarm and quite a lot of smell.

The decorator was concerned...he looked a little bit scared.

I was summoned down to hear the tale of woe. The builder was ready with reasons why they hadn't known it was there, couldn't have been expected to know it was there. He looked fed up and a bit anxious.

I shrugged. I wasn't that worried. He was right, sticking pipes in a concrete floor seems like a stupid thing to do.

He said he'd called someone to effect a repair and said the gas would be off for a while.

I couldn't drum up any emotion whatsoever, but I'm not really sure why. I'm sure I should have at least felt a bit of annoyance, or something...but...nada.

I've had a rough week at work for one reason and another, and other stuff's going on in my head and maybe there's no room for anything else just now.

But I figure in the ups and downs of owning an old house that needs a bit of TLC shit happens. Maybe this is the shit they refer to.

I'm reminded that worse things happen at sea - and probably a broken gas/fuel line would be much worse at sea.

Just as well I'm on dry land, then, innit.

Oh there is just one thing...following some rejigging of electricity circuits I discover some of the downstairs lights aren't working. Slightly annoying, but as I amble around in the dark a fair bit, I daresay I'll cope until Tuesday when the builder's back.



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