Tuesday Tie-Up

In which we try to knit a lot of loose threads into a journal entry

It�s Spring Break and I am coming to you from the sunny beaches of Cancun where I am chasing down burritos, beer and boys...NOT! All my playmates still have to work so I�m hanging around the house, doing a little spring cleaning, taking afternoon naps and watching MSNBC obsessively in a vain attempt to make some sense out of the world. But the spin makes MY head spin.

Like everyone else, I am waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And just for the record, I couldn�t pick the Dixie Chicks out of a police lineup, so what they have to say about Dubya matters not to me.

This morning, when I hit the shower, I noticed right away that they water was not blisteringly hot like I like. �Darn that Hawk!� I think, �He used up all the hot water!� Later, when I am cleaning up the breakfast dishes, the water in the sink keeps getting colder and colder. Having a PhD, I soon deduce that something is wrong with the hot water heater. It�s an old house, something is always wrong with SOMETHING around here.

The hot water heater is located in the unfinished, dungeony (scary) part of the basement. I stare at it for awhile, but unlike civilized household appliances, there is no error message telling me what is wrong. However, I do have a Reader�s Digest �Home Emergency� book which suggests that the pilot light may have gone out.

Gas + flame scare me ever since my cousin�s house in St Louis blew up. Seriously, a gas line to their home cracked and their house exploded. My cousin, David was asleep in the house and escaped into 20 degree weather with nothing but a blanket and his tighty whities.

So I call the gas company, but they want $80 to come out and relight the pilot. $80! WTF! I guess I am not that scared.

There are detailed instructions on the side of the hot water heater on how to do the deed. There are also PLENTY of terse warnings. I call Ray up to tell him I love him and that my will is in the safety deposit box. He suggests that I quit being a pussy and just relight the damn thing.

I have to get down on the basement floor (ewwww spiders) with a long fireplace match and snake my hand under the tank. I hold my breath until I hear the swoosh of the gas igniting.

I have lived to tell the tale.

In Knitting Knews, the flamingo pink LionBrand Fun Fur, finally spoke to me and said it wanted to be turned into some slipper socks for Maria using Lemon, Lime and Orange Microspun stripes. It should be festive.

Great Uncle John is still in ICU, too weak to eat so today he�s getting a indwelling feeding tube. I love my Uncle John, he was the first pink sheep in the family. Every gay boy should be blessed with a gay uncle. They give the best presents, like feather boas and opera records. Last Thanksgiving, John came to visit on the train and entertained us all with tales of Cuban cabana boys back in the 40s.

And last but not least, we have a crocus in our yard!

2 People have told Dr JJ all about it