A New Start, An Old Story

Finally, the close of the week. An excuse to stop unpacking, scrubbing floors (!!@#&^%), arranging and rearranging the kitchen drawers.

It was a fabulous move — despite moving into a flat reached by a set of curving stairs, we made good time, managed to pop over to Ikea and buy what we needed, managed to put together a piece of furniture with only eight screws and four metal rods left over (Ikea: Preserving the World’s Collections of Screws and Hex Wrenches), and managed to be cordial to the picky little woman who came to see us off and collect our keys. After a day of figuring out how to turn things on, we settled in for a quiet night — a bit of supper, a bit of doodling, a bit of jewelry-making, as D. dug out his tiny drills and finally started on making a gift from those tons of shells we picked up last weekend.

We had cleaned the kitchen and realized that there wasn’t any hot water at the tap — and, because it was Good Friday, realized that no one was in the office at the property management company. “Never mind,” we thought. “It’s not an emergency.” After attempting to turn the hot water on under the sink — and ending up with a huge puddle on the floor from some weirdly disconnected dishwasher piping — we gave up, and put the kettle on. Been here, done that, lived with cold water in the kitchen for two months. No problem to live with it for a weekend.

We got up this morning, and pulled up the blinds to revel in the fact that the sun beams had nicely defeated the clouds. We ambled off to the shower, having planned to meet up with a friend for a walk around the city and some breakfast. T. ran the shower. And ran it. And ran it. And realized that there wasn’t any hot water being produced.

Moments later, D. announced that the radiators were cold. The boiler clicked and clacked and …nothing happened.

Does this sound familiar to anyone!?

What is it with us and boilers?!

Ironically, it gets better: the property management company provided us with a series of phone numbers for use in emergency. The listless little waif who handed us our keys stressed repeatedly that these numbers were to be used ONLY in an emergency, as calling out someone on a weekend or after hours was very expensive, and only real emergencies would be paid for by the property management company. We discussed the issue at length, deciding that, in fact, since it isn’t actually summer (Ha.), it has gotten down into the thirties at night this week, so it was an emergency to be without hot water or at least without heat.

The man at the other end of the emergency call disagreed — from the pub. Okay, actually, he didn’t disagree, but he said, “Sorry, mate. I don’t have any boiler parts in the van, you’ll have to wait ’til Tuesday.”

And that’s our story for today.

Next week, D. meets with his Master’s students to supervise their papers, and T. buckles down and does the last few polishes on her current work. Hopefully the large windows, letting in lots of light, will also let in lots of inspiration and concentration — we were stunned to find that in three weeks it will be May! There’s a lot to finish, and suddenly time seems very short! T’s second book is out in a month and three weeks, and is already receiving reviews. The school year concludes in about that same time frame. Lots of plans to make, and lots to do!

Last year at this time, it snowed — and we were distraught over having only brown eggs to dye. This year, we have a lot of half packed boxes and no eggs at all, but despite our inconveniences, we’re glad to be here. Hope that you’re glad to be where you are, too. Happy Pesach, Easter, or Spring — wherever or however you celebrate or not. Peace.

– D & T

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