The Curse of Looking and Sounding Young

If you look younger than you are (especially if you also sound younger than you are), people are constantly telling you how grateful you should be, and that someday, you'll be glad of it. This has yet to happen to me. Today, in fact, provided two reasons that I should not be grateful. At all.

I met Mike at Taco Bell today so that he could give me my cell phone, which I accidentally left at his house yesterday. As we were leaving, he was in line behind his boss. As Mike got into his car, I overheard his boss say to Mike, "You're really robbing the cradle on that one. I'm surprised they let her out of the school for lunch. What is she - 17?"
Mike, "She's 24."
I don't know why, but I found that amusing. It did, however, make me wonder if that's why the car people constantly addressed me in a "You're Beneath Me" manner - because they think I'm young.

Then, just a few minutes ago, I got a 1-800 call on the home line. I answered it and asked how I could help the person on the other line.
"Hello, I'm calling from comcast. We received a call from this number about the service, and I'd like to conduct a short survey. Is that okay?"
Me: "I guess so."
"Great, can I speak to your mother?"
Me, after a moment's frustrated paused, "I'm the homeowner here."
"Oh, you just sound so young!" I didn't respond. There are only so many times you can be told that before you want to smack someone. He continued, "I just assumed that you were... I'm sorry, how about that survey?"
Me: "What would you like to know?"
"We had a call from this number, what was your complaint?"
"I don't know. When did you receive the call?" I asked, because it's been about a week and a half since I've had to call Comcast to complain - reliable internet is marvelous.
"It wasn't you? We'll call back at a later date when the caller is home. Probably after five tonight." Click.
Worse than when my brother calls me. At least he's not a "professional." Please grow ears. Or at least the ability to use them. I'm serious.
So, Melody, if someone calls after five... you know who it is.

"Water, water, everywhere..."

The plumber came today! We had hot water!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I said had. Why "had" you ask? Well, "had" is because of the short-lived nature of our hot water. Melody and I returned from our coffee run tonight (yay coffee in Nappanee), and when we returned home, it was to the alarming sound of the basement's fire alarm. Oh yes. Hot water. Everywhere. "Water, water, everywhere, and all the boards did shrink. Water, water, everywhere, and not a drop to drink."

We turned off the pipes. Of course, the basement's puddled, and moist and humid and, well, wet, and now, we no longer have hot water to the house. I called the plumber. If he'd come tonight: 140/hr and 75 for labor/driving out. I don't think so. However, he did confirm how to turn off things, and was soundly unhelpful. Needless to say: I'm not thrilled.

Thank you, Melody, for thinking of bringing out a nice, cold one. And thank you, Ryan, for teaching me how to chug beer. Even if I'm not going to. It's funny how something as nasty as beer can make you feel better. I was telling Mike the other day that Ice Cream does that... but somehow beer does, too.

To cheer me up, though, here's what one idiot customer said to me today. "Is your guys's layaway gone?" Just say that with a hick accent, and half your teeth missing, and you pretty much know what I was up against. Guys's. Erg. One more day. "One day more..."

Funny, in "That Seventies Show", Fezz has his shirt off - and he doesn't look half bad.