Cookin'

What a weekend. My landlord called Friday and said a new stove was coming my way on Saturday! Hallelujah. Now I won't have to pray my next door neighbor is going out of town this Thanksgiving and wants me to keep an eye on his pad, ie I can use his oven! So yesterday was spent going up and down the stairs to let in the stove toting men and my landlord's son, and then to discover they brought the wrong size and the old stove back up, the new one gone, and everything to happen again today, on Sunday. This morning I was deep in a strange multi-layered dream when my cell phone went off. It was 7:30. The men again. Downstairs. Did I mention our buzzer is broken? So down I went, babbling and trying to look sane. The minute I let in the two young men, my words came out in Alien-speak. They looked at me quizzically and I prayed my demented verbage was falling on foreign ears as to why they were looking at me as if I was mad?

Dead asleep on the stoop.

They made it upstairs faster than me and they were pushing a 24-inch stove versus the gigantic 30 inch one from yesterday. What I had been trying to mouth to them downstairs was if they were the same guys from yesterday? I had been in the middle of a chore and threw Joey, the landord's son, my keys and didn't see any of the action till I saw him back on the street and he told me of the oven woes. These guys looked at me, and then one to the other, and I waved them on, not knowing their language and how to say, "I was sawing logs when you called and I don't know my own name." Who cares if I'm sleeping. They're working on a gorgeous Sunday morning and I am getting a bloody stove, so hush, woman!

Anyway, Joey had tipped the other two chaps yesterday but now I was stuck with these guys and the other half of my visit with them was scribbling my name on the receipt, remembering I hadn't checked the stove out as previously asked by my landlord, and the guys were ready to go and leave this crazy-haired mumbling woman. But I was trying to rummage my purse for a tip. Please let there be two fives (that sounds so cheap), but all I could find were eight singles. They took it and their eyes to each other translated in any language.

But I have a stove. Joey will be by today to shove it into the space and reconnect it. I could do it, I'm sure, but it's a legality thing. Who cares? I'm either going back to bed but now it's 9:12 or committing to my official time to write. Oh yeh, and I have two tacos leftover from last night's run to Fresco's Tortillas.

Life is good.