So I guess it was Saturday, while my parents were in town, that Charlie says to me, “I think there’s something wrong with our hot water.”Don'cha just love that?
We all observed, during our next showers, that, indeed, there was not enough hot water. The water would reach a certain temperature—barely a few degrees north of tepid, hold for a bit, and then run cool… Cool like that first poolside toe-dip at the end of spring.
Now, ordinarily, in the dead heat of a Louisiana August, cool would be a pleasant reality. I am here to tell you that, despite my parents’ polite assurances that the water temperature was more than fine, “cool” in the shower stall of an air-conditioned home in which all the shades are closed against the sweltering heat of late summer is nevertheless decidedly not pleasant.
On Monday morning, I made the call. The maintenance man for our leasing company would be back with me the following day.
Friday. Multiple tepid showers. No maintenance man.
Goose bumps. Shrinkage. Sniffles. A slick on the surface of all kitchenware.
Looks like we’ll be “camping” through the weekend.
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