PHONE:
"bring bring, bring bring"::diving across my bed to grab phone from nightstand::
ME: "Hello?"
<--said in srs adult-like manner after catching breathPLUMMER: "Hey Jenny, how's it going?"
ME: "Fine, how are you?"
PLUMMER: "Good."
ME: "Oh! Is this Mike?"
<--said like I just figured it out, even though I knew who it was before I answered, on account of me checking my caller ID so I could make an informed decision before answering. PLUMMER: "Yeah. So I hear you're having problems with your toilet?"
ME: "Wha...? I mean, where did you...? How did you...?"
<--said like Bella in that one hospital scene at the end of Twilight, as I turned bright red and realized that the only place I've mentioned my running toilet problem is on my immature/slightly irreverent blog in that ridiculous post in which I photo-shopped myself, a Diet Coke, and two little cockroaches into a picture of my toilet.
PLUMMER: "Laura (aka, my wife) read it on your blog.
.."
::my blush, deepening::
Professional Plummer then offers to come over and take a look at Offending Toilet, and I humbly accept offer, despite my mounting embarrassment, because Tony and I had just discovered that Offending Toilet is not only running, but also leaking, and that crazy leaking junk is over my head. Then, whilst Plummer asks how my summer is going etc, and I inquire about Plummer's new house etc, I frantically go through each my recent blog posts in my mind, judging my level of taste/maturity. By the time I hang up, my face is as hot as a light bulb. A real light bulb, not those global warming light bulbs.
That night, as I blanketed my mildewy bathroom in Scrubbing Bubbles to prepare for Plummer's arrival the next day, I couldn't seem to shake my embarrassment.
I guess I've always operated under the assumption that only "You Gize" read my blog. Meaning, I'm aware of all friends, family, and acquaintances who come 'round here. For the most part, I still think I have a good grasp on just who reads this--all five or six of you--but discovering a seventh made me think: What if other Decent Folks have seen my Indecent Blog? Am I unknowingly making a bad impression on people? Do they think I'm a total groovy nerd?
These questions continued to worry me as I scraped dried-on toothpaste off the bathroom counter tops with a butter knife, and shoved makeup and toothbrushes and batteries and matchbox cars into the drawers.
I started to think that maybe I should censor what I write on this blog. Give more consideration to who might stumble upon it, and try to make a better impression on these Stumblers. Go from totally geek, to totally chic.
Now, don't panic. By the time I finished hazmatting my bathroom, I came to my senses about the whole thing. There is no way I could pull off the whole "chic" thing. Let's face it, I'm no Cindy Mancini. So I guess I'm going to have to go on being the type of person who would spend hours photo-shopping cockroaches and Diet Cokes into pictures just to get a cheap laugh out of You Gize. And though I may embarrass myself from time to time, at least I won't be talking to Patty on your side of the cafeteria. (<--totally lost my train of thought right there, so I just wrote that).
Anyway, back to my Offending Toilet... Plummer came over yesterday with a fancy bucket that had its own tool belt and checked out the toilet. He fixed the leak in 1.5 minutes. (But I do believe I played an instrumental part in fixing the leak, as twas I who handed him the screwdriver.) Now, it turns out, that the reason I couldn't stop the toilet from running using my usual tricks, is because that little tower of terror inside the tank needs to be replaced.
Ah! Good news! As this means I have not necessarily lost my knack for fixing running toilets. Plummer offered to replace it for me after I run-get the part, but think I'm going to try to do it myself, just so I can brag about it afterward. He did give me step by step instructions. And if I screw up and accidentally brake a waterline or something, he said he'll come back and bring his fancy bucket.
Good friends, the Plummer and his wife. Good, decent folk.
*according to spell check, "plummer" should be spelled "plumber." Cha-right.