Yes. I do!

Although I did not a few days ago.

A couple of weekends ago, there was a horrendous smell of gas around the entrance to our garage. A call into the Gas Company, and about thirty minutes later we have a person in a pale blue shirt and dark blue shorts confirming that we do indeed have a gas leak.

And he promptly cuts our gas off.

Useful? No.

We did not blow up though. Not blowing up was extremely useful.

And we were able to at least scrounge enough hot water out of the hot water heater to get a bath in.

The next day I had to work from home and call around to plumbers. Yes. Plumbers. Apparently, plumbers are the people that work on gas lines. There are not really any gas line people. Though, I began to wonder. Considering the number of plumbers that I called whom declined my offer for work because they do not work on gas lines. There may be a niche market in there somewhere.

That afternoon, the plumber arrived, dug up my yard (with much more efficiency than it took me to get my yard to the state I was proud of), said that I did indeed have a leak, and went off to get materials.

I was figuring that was all that I would see of him that day.

However, he did indeed come back. Repaired the leak in the “riser” (translation: the pipe that comes out of the ground and goes into your house), and then pressure tested the entire house.

Three leaks later, he gave me the clean bill of health, said he would call the job into the city to inspect, and told me what to do tomorrow.

Wait.

Tomorrow?

Dammit, I was going to have to work from home again tomorrow as well? Life is cruel!

And do you know how many kettles of boiling water it takes to get a tub with minimum batheable hot water is?

Lots.

And then some.

Early the next day I discovered that I had a green tag on my gas meter (translation: the city inspected and approved the work). I called the power company, and the plumber. The gas company to come hook my smelly shit back up. The plumber to come fill in my yard.

A different gas company person (still complete with pale blue shirt and dark blue shorts) finally arrived that afternoon and even did me the courtesy of restarting my hot water heater (something that always makes me nervous).

By the time it got dark, there was no sign from the plumber.

I contemplated taking out some of the skeletons we keep stashed in the closet to bury in the hole under the cover of darkness, or even putting up a sign in the yard offering, “Discount corpse burial.”

However, before I could act on it, the next evening when I got home from work, I guess the plumber had shown up and filled in the hole.

Now I am all gassy, and quite happy about it.

Thanks for stopping by, and remember: We live in a society where pizza gets to your house before the police.