Time for a post. Want to keep up the momentum. Maybe that is good—that I even care, because really I feel like shit.
I moved into the cottage. It was a total fiasco from day one, but seems to have sorted itself out now. I even slept for the first time in a week last night.
The day I moved in my husband first noticed that there was no hot water. The water heater was on and we changed the fuses. Nothing. Then four light fixtures were broken. No light outside at all and though I’m in city limits there are no immediate neighbors or street lights—couldn’t see a thing at night without a front porch light. Bathroom light broken too and one of the kitchen lights. Smoke detector out of order as well.
A very nice workman came the next day and fixed the water heater. The fixtures were beyond immediate repair.
Later that day I wanted to cook my first meal and as I was opening the packaging of a vegetable steamer (I left my nice fancy one at home) I punctured myself badly in the knuckle with the little leg on the steamer. Blood started squirting everywhere—EVERYWHERE—it was as if there is a major artery in my knuckle. I ran to the sink and shoved my hand under running water. The sink quickly filled up, the water red with blood. The next thing I knew the red water was at my feet—the pipes were broken.
I ripped open a package of napkins and wrapped a handful of them around my finger, the blood saturating through immediately once again dripping onto the floor as I grabbed my cell phone and called my landlords. “I have nothing to clean this up with. No extra towels, nothing. Please come and clean it up now and send a plumber.” I left a message. Heard back from them late that night—someone would be there the next day.
The next day I woke up to a warm refrigerator. I could not eat any of the food in it because I did not know how long the refrigerator had been broken. I called the landlord, mildly hysterical at this point and said if absolutely everything was not fixed by days end and I didn’t have a new refrigerator I was leaving and that I had canceled the check. They responded as I asked, but not until after the young woman who owns the house chastised me for “berating” her. All I said was that the house was obviously not ready to be moved into—I did not intend to berate—but I was very upset.
I later apologized to her for the sake of keeping the peace and because I realized had I been in a different head space I may have indeed handled it differently. I don’t want to leave—all this moving around and then all the upheaval has been too much. All is fixed now. They got right on it. Can’t complain about that. All I need now is a light over the stove. I can’t see a damn thing when I’m cooking at night.
Then today…my deadbolt locks automatically upon shutting the door. I locked myself out with no keys. My landlord was out of town. I was stuck in the freezing cold, missing my therapy appointment that I felt I desperately needed waiting for a locksmith. Locksmith arrives, opens my door in less time than I can do it with a key—a bit disturbing.
End of drama. I hope.
Can I return to normalcy tomorrow?