* jazzyhands *

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It's been an eventful week. On Monday my sister came to stay. I got home from work and we got all gussied up to go to the White Stripes. Emotions were running high and we were primed for a night of fine entertainment. First stop was Lentil As Anything for a toothsome meal complete with entertaining waiting staff. Here's a tip - never drink wine from metal cups. It is not good.

Then we headed to the Palace for the action. Except the Palace was dark and closed and empty. We looked at each other in dismay. What the hell was going on? My sister checked the tickets. The concert was on Tuesday. D'oh.

Although shocked and distressed, we agreed it was better to be wrong and a day early than wrong and a day later. Far, far better.

Tuesday night we were less enthused. We had definitely peaked too early on the White Stripes. I had that thing where I didn't want to get off the couch. Finally got up and dressed and almost out the door when we could smell a burning smell.

Talk about major dilemmas. Andrew was at home but had a blocked nose and couldn't smell anything so we had to find the source of the smell. Eventually we decided it was the computer and turned it off. I was pretty upset, thinking of major repair bills (I still have a PC that is a damn expensive paper weight cos I can't afford to fix it).

The White Stripes - what can I say? The best live band I have ever seen in my life. It was sensational. We were about 4-5 rows back in the crowd at the side so didn't get to see much of Meg but still had an excellent view. They played lots of old favourites too, which made me very happy.

Wednesday I dragged myself out of bed. Why do bands always play on weeknights? Dragged myself through a day of work, my last day of my temp assignment, and curled up on the couch for the night. Except we decided some pursuing of books at Borders was on the agenda. On the way to Borders we stopped off at La Porchetta. Haven't been there for ages and forgot how cheap and yummy it is.

Home again, and filled to the gills on yummy food, I decided to make a hot water bottle and go to bed. Except there was no hot water. The burning from the night before wasn't the computer after all but the hot water cylinder. Yikes.

Thursday I slept in. Woohoo no work. I rang the real estate agent about the water then headed off to the cinema for another viewing of Pirates of the Carribean. Bless Village for their $18 gold class tickets on weekdays. We consumed a disgusting amount of food during the film then hung around the Jam Factory doing Jam Factory things including bashing the bejesus out of some pesky crabs at Intensity.

Friday morning I had to drive my sister to the airport. Then I was going to explore shower options. Except my temp agency called with a job I couldn't refuse. So she had to take a cab to the airport and I had to take an icky cold shower.

I called my real estate agent about 10-15 times during the day trying to get them to commit to a time for the hot water fixing man to turn up. Around 5.30 they said someone would call me between 10.00 - 11.00 Saturday morning.

Friday night I went out with a bunch of strangers that I had met at various places around the internet for some new and interesting experiences.

This morning I rang the real estate agent at 10.30, realising that they weren't going to call me. The girl said they had discussed the hot water situation with the owners and the owners said that the problem was that the pilot light had gone out (because that was the problem last time). They would send the plumber but, if it was the pilot light then I would have to pay. I asked her a few relevant questions like "What the fuck?" and why didn't the plumber tell me about this last time and how the hell do I relight the pilot light anyway?

She told me there were instructions on the hot water cylinder. I looked for them. Andrew looked for them. No luck. The cylinder has a cupboard build around it so it is semi-obscured. Maybe the instructions were on the obscured side.

Later this afternoon a friend who has fix-it knowledge came to have a look. He searched for the pilot light and couldn't find it. Then he checked out the hot water cylinder. It is goddamn electric. Electric, people.

The frigging owners of this house are talking shit out their bottoms. As far as I am aware there is no pilot light for electric hot water. Now it is Saturday night, the real estate agent is shut and I still have no hot water.

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