On Thursday morning I took a shower before work (normal) and when I was done I was standing in about 6 inches of water (not normal). It drained, eventually, but we called the landlord. On Friday (I had to come home from work early) the landlord sent out a drain guy (who was an hour late) to snake the main line, something that needs to be done every few months due to the enormous ancient pepper tree in our front yard. (Note to self, whenever we can finally buy a house, do not buy one with large trees so close to the main line.) This drain guy was smarter than the last few, I thought, because he wanted to see that he actually fixed the problem so he came in and ran the water in the bathtub. Nope. Still a problem. He snakes the secondary line for another hour and thinks it is draining better but the pipes under the house need to be looked at, something he can’t do today. “Go ahead and use it,” he says. He leaves and I go to clean out all the gunk he left behind. But the draining water didn’t sound right. Something NEW was wrong. Lifted up the crawl space and sure enough, water was draining out of the tub right under the house. Sigh. The guy broke the pipe. Another call to the landlord who asked if the toilet still worked okay. I said yes and he said it wasn’t an emergency so they would get to it next week. A frustrating day with a total writing accomplishments of ZERO.
Saturday we went to Santa Cruz for the second of four plays in this year’s Shakespeare Santa Cruz festival at the glen. We saw Winter’s Tale, which was simply wonderful. And now it’s Sunday and half of it is over and I still haven’t started to write or even think about writing. Must force myself to work on the last article assignment. It’s due soon but I simply can’t get my brain wrapped around it.