After a fairly un-thrilling weekend, I got up bright and early (for me), ready to start the work-week. I turned on the heat (because it’s cold — about 5C) and was greeted with a lot of ticking, then no ticking. And no heat.

I am of an investigative mind, so I turned the hot water tap on full blast and got… icy cold water. And still no ticking, no ignition.  I would have investigated more, but my landlords appear to be of the “we don’t need no stinking manual” type. For any of the appliances in the flat.

Called them and got, “The number you are trying to reach is either switched off or out of coverage.” Left a message. Two hours and counting, no reply.

Now, the inability to bathe wouldn’t phase me so much if I didn’t actually have to be someplace later where it would behoove me to look presentable. And smell good. Which equals shower, in my book.

But after some high-quality swearing in a couple of languages, it came to me. I’d just camp in the house. I heated up some water on the stove and had a “bird bath” plus full shampoo. All those years as a Girl Scout were not in vain. But still…

Image by Anne Taintor, sentiments shared by many

Advertisements