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Dear boiler,
You disappoint me.
I know we haven't known each other for long, and that I've been slightly sneering about your position in life (or perhaps just your position in my kitchen), but I've come to depend on you, on your warmth and your undoubted skill to get things boiling around here.
You let me down last week and now my confidence in your commitment to me and this house is dented.
Perhaps I didn't pay you enough attention? Perhaps I didn't listen to you enough? Is that why your tears began to fall? Is that why you flooded my kitchen floor? Simply for attention?
Well how do you think that makes me feel? We had a good thing going there and if you'd only spoken up earlier I might have been able to work something out. Instead, you keep your peace until it's too late for either of us stop the impending doom.
Your heart is broken, I'm told. Well, not your heart so much as some space ship looking part of your workings that the plumber unceremoniously removed from within - brassy in colour and slightly covered in limescale. Whatever, a piece has clean sheared off, causing you to spill your innards to anyone and everyone who happens to be passing.
I'm sorry you're hurt and I arranged for someone to come fix you as soon as I realised there was someone wrong, but the fact still remains, you ruined my Valentine's Day. And for that, I'm not sure I can forgive you. But I'll have to try.
You see, time with my hubs is so very precious to me and, without giving anyone else a second thought, you chose that incredibly special day - that one day out of the whole calendar - to have your breakdown, turn cold on me and demand my attention.
But one thing I've learned from this whole messy (and surprisingly wet) debacle is that I, we, take you and your position in the household, for granted. Indeed, perhaps me and my entire race take you and your kind for granted as a whole. But who can blame us when, in our greatest need of warmth and comfort, you seem to laugh in our faces and withdraw your services.
Well, you got my attention with your incessent dripping and I only hope you're feeling better now. I can only assume you do feel better as you just sit smugly in your corner and hum gloatingly at me while you go about your business, caring not about the love, attention and money I've lavished on you in recent days.
You've drained me recently and I just hope that we can get back to normal now, function properly between us. I promise to pay more attention to your needs and stop taking your talents for granted.
Let's be friends again. Together we can wrap this household in love, warmth and hot water... What do you say?
Yours in domestic harmony,
PMB
This post is my first attempt at Sleep is for the Weak's Writing Workshop - head on over if you fancy joining in, it's muchos fun!
Thanks for reading my inane ramblings once again!
...and not in a good way!
No, I'm drowning in dirty washing, dirty dishes, dirty kitchen floors (well only one, so technically I couldn't possibly drown in that...).
This is all due to the stupidy stupid boiler breaking on Valentine's Day. Luckily we only had one sleepless night of getting up every two hours to empty the washing up bowl that was situated most precariously underneath said boiler to catch the drippety drip... Actually, my wonderful, gorgeous hubs did the getting up, but I was still rudely awakened every time he rose to do his duty.
So, I've been unable to do the dishes (must make room for that dishwasher I've had in the garage for nine months) without boiling the kettle three times for every bowl full, hubs has almost run out of undies and socks (and he gets grumpy if the underwear fairy isn't doing her job!) and my hands have gone on strike owing to the fact that I can only wash them in (and I kid you not) freezing cold water several times a day...
Ours is not a harmonious household of late!
But fear not, for a lovely fella from Gas Angel Heating has exited my abode, leaving me with a brand new, shiny (at least I think it is, can't see the blessed thing) and stupidly expensive new part which has stopped the dripping - hoozah, hoorah and jubilate!
Now, of course, I no longer have any excuse to leave the pile of washing, ignore the dirty dishes and sit at my computer all day - gah!
Time to press on with my wifely duties of the domestic kind... who has time to get pregnant these days!?
Valentine's Day 2010, the most romantic day of the year. Hubs and I have a low-budget day planned (having already spent a small fortune on ingredients and wine for our special meal!) and everything's going according to plan.
The angels of love surround our little home like a swarm of wasps - only much more friendly and a lot less stingy.
Then we discover our boiler is leaking. And I don't mean a gentle drip, drip, drip to act as percussion to the music of love... oh no! I'm talking a miniature Niagara Falls leaking. Now, to many that may conjure up romantic images of sight-seeing, arm in arm, gazing lovingly first into one another's eyes then out into the glorious misty furore that is the Falls...
No, not in this case.
In this case it's a beautiful scene involving a badly (done before we owned the house) boxed in boiler, leaking from place unknown on the underside, with crappy washing up bowl (already seen better days, but hey, it's for washing up in right?) perched precariously underneath to catch the roaring torrent.
Surely plumbers will be available today? Surely they'll be falling over themselves to come out on, not only a Sunday, but Valentine's Day? Wouldn't they be clammering to arrive here first to charge us a call out fee, plus a Sunday fee and Valentine's fee on top?
Nope. Can't get a plumber to come fix it! Not for love nor money (surely for love on today of all days?).
So, our special day is somewhat thwarted by the fact that we have to be around every two hours to empty the emergency basin for fear of further flooding.
Still, at least we won't need mood music during our lovely meal... the sound of running water will help us imagine we're in more glamorous climes, eating in the shadow of the great Falls...
All we need now is a couple of those fetching hooded waterproof jobs and we're the picture of love and romance!
Happy Drippy Valentine's Day darling!
Dear boiler,
