The Stink of Spring

This stinks.

Only yesterday I was totally primed to have a glamorous day off -a day of leisure -after yet another terrible week of cold, rain, and sporadic disturbing work-like rustlings, when the Mrs. -the one and only true Mrs, my Light of Lights, the Spiritual Devourer of My Every Sentient Impulse (not to mention a bodaciously appealing slice of Ultra-Womanhood) -suggested that it might not be a bad idea for me to take the Kelp kanines out for a brisk trot around the Manor.

I've never liked poodles, or exercise, so it took me some time to warm to the idea, but in no time at all I found myself stuffing them into their little sweaters and setting out over the moors, with the little jerks yapping at my heels. It's a supremely humbling experience, and no real man much likes being seen with toy poodles -especially not fluffy pinkish-white ones with those little balls cut on their ankles and tails, and especially not when they have names like Mitzi and Bitzi; fortunately for my self-respect, the other one is named Evil Roy Slade, even though his disposition is in fact almost identical to that of Mitzi and Bitzi.

I couldn't help noticing on our tour of the neighborhood that more of it seemed to be under water than usual, and I determined to check the basement on our return to the Manor to make sure nothing had gone awry. Alas, on inspection I found the basement quite badly flooded, and the heat and hot water turned off as a result.

Immediately I called the oil company, who sent someone out who informed me that there was no way he'd be going anywhere near our basement until the standing water had been removed -something about not wanting to get electrocuted, he said (wuss!) So I spent much of the day alternately shivering and bailing out the basement, which remained quite completely full of water despite my best efforts.

Today I started the day needlessly early by buying a submersible pump, which is still pumping away as we speak, having made only minimal progress on reducing the water level in the last ten hours or so, and so I am hunkered over my computer, frozen, with icicles hanging from my nose and eyebrows, enjoying spring.

A few hours ago I borrowed a little space heater from one of the neighbors, which worked fine for about five minutes before it blew a fuse; and unfortunately, the fuse box is in the flooded basement, and I'm sure Mrs. K would not want me taking any chances trying to change the damn thing with a half foot of water still covering everything.

Still, this is our second night of no heat or hot water, and I'm starting to get a little edgy. Unfortunately, the oil guy seemed quite put out with me for asking him to risk life and limb so Mrs. K could wash her hair, so I don't think we'll be trying him again tonight. It is really cold though -the poodles are turning blue. Actually, I guess that's the silver lining, as it's really the first use I've found for a toy poodle: they seem to make serviceable thermometers. Who knew?

Spring indeed; I hate my life.

Wait, I think my bride is summoning me... you wait here...

Well, OK, I'm back, and the heat is back on now, too, thanks to Mrs. K. encouraging me to stop being such a wuss and wade in there and push the damn re-set button (which I did after donning every piece of rubber or rubber-like clothing I could find -stylin'!), and now we're back up and running and starting to thaw and maybe now I can write my damn column.

Yeah, right.