Zombies are not coming to get me.
That statement may require a little exposition for clarification, but once again, time has lapsed since my last post and I have catching up to do.
Re: Gas Panics
1: The weekend my mom came down to visit for Spencer's birthday, we smelled gas in the house but then didn't, and thought nothing of it, considering two major forms of public transportation pass by on both sides of our house. We had a huge birthday party for Spencer, family crashing overnight, and so forth.
Tuesday of the following week, the new owner of our home came to visit with potential tenants and their moms. Spencer and I were home, doing our normal afterschool routine, and as they entered the house, they immediately became alarmed by the smell of gas...the OVERWHELMING smell of gas, which I did not smell at all in any way.
Thirty minutes later as I sat outside on the porch with my purse, keys and Spencer in my lap, PGW arrived with sensors a-beeping. The service guy walked through my dining room with a contraption that looked like something from Ghostbusters. It beeped loudly and steadily and increased in beep strength as he entered our kitchen. The stove was an immediate culprit. Then he headed to the basement where things went crazy. Gas=off. No heat, no hot water. He replaced our meter, which was leaking, but could not determine the rest of the problem and left me to cold showers and take out.
The plumber came the next day, sprayed our pipes with bubble liquid, and sent air through the pipes and looked for bubbles. Ten minutes in, he called me downstairs to show me a major union joint under the middle of my house looking like the set of the Lawrence Welk Show. Bubbles everywhere. It turned out the problem with the stove came from the problem under the house, so it wasn't really a problem. He fixed the union joint thingy and another small leak in under two hours. PGW was not so efficient, refusing to send anyone out until the following day. They're busy, you know. More cold water and take out. Actually, we have a large water heater and were able to get almost two days worth of showers out of it without using hot water for anything else.
Gas Panic Part Deux: On the way up to Maine, my mom and I stopped our cars at a rest stop near Sturbridge, Massachusetts. I pumped gas and waited for my mom to do the same.
On the other side of the island from me, a simpleton attempted to pump gas from a pump marked OUT OF ORDER. Promptly, the hose fell off and gas literally poured out on top of his car and all over the place. So, thinking like a crazy panicking mom, I ripped Spencer from his car seat and ran away. My mom followed suit until we, and other patrons, realized a not so smart patron had gotten back in his car and was starting it up. So we all yelled at him until he pulled over and turned off his car.
A very nice fellow driving a vintage car helped us move my car away from the immediate area and the frightened gal inside the quickmart adjacent to the station called the fire department. We made a hasty exit before we could be rounded up as witnesses, victims or annoyed and inconvenienced bystanders.
Now about that zombie thing: They keep showing ads for Land of The Dead. On my way out of the tv room to go brush my teeth, I imagined a zombie coming up the stairs out of the darkness at me with glowing eyes. I almost had to say "There are no zombies" as I headed down the hall.
This is the worst side effect of having a wild imagination: I can literally imagine something terrifying in a completely normal, safe environment.
Ok ewww. There is a man and a dog asleep in the room with me, and one of them farted.
Now THAT is a whole different kind of gas panic.
Some young lady is being cut apart and sewn back together again on an MTV plastic surgery show. It's about time for me to go bed. Especially since now I have seen every ad for Real World: Austin that's been created. I am an MTV zombie. GRRRRRRR brrrrrains...
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