C-I-L-L my lan'lord.** Our house, which my employer found and rented for us, is turning into the bane of my existence. Okay, we have a great view, many of the fixtures are new, and the location is very nice: 10 minutes' drive to the hospital, for when I go into labor, and only five minutes away from the mental health center, which is going to have to make room for me unless things improve radically. As if the ants weren't bad enough, we have discovered termites. Termites mean one thing: tent fumigation. Tent fumigation means moving out of the house for several days. And the exterminator says they can't schedule it until January.
So in three months, we get to move into a hotel or guest house, for an as-yet-unspecified period, with a two-year-old and a newborn. My Husband the International Telecommuter gets to either set up a new base of operations without his VOIP phone line, or take a few days' vacation under duress. Oh, and I'll still be on leave during that time, so he'll be cooped up with an infant and a stir-crazy mommy. If we're lucky, we can find someone to take the cat during that time.
But it's not just the insect world, oh no. Inanimate objects are also somehow synchronizing their efforts to antagonize us. First, the air conditioner in our bedroom broke down. I know, you're all looking at your calendars and seeing the word "October" up there. Yeah, me too. I'm more used to having snow up to my knees by this time of year, but here the temps are still in the muggy 80s. And when you're eight months pregnant, getting comfortable to fall asleep is hard enough without sweating through your sheets.
Then it was the water filter in the fridge. Then it was the oven. And now, our washing machine has broken down. So we can either schlep to the laundromat, wait for the laundry to crawl out of the hamper and into the bathtub on its own, or we can wash our clothes in a machine that won't spin all the soap and rinsewater out. Ugh.
The repairman who looked at the washer said it would be "a few days" to order the parts. Yeah. Our landlord said something similar about the AC...several weeks ago. We still have the box fan propping the window open.
Island Time: even Einstein and Stephen Hawking would go nuts trying to figure it out.


**Anyone who doesn't get the reference, Google "Eddie Murphy and Saturday Night Live". You know, back when it was actually funny, edgy, and worth staying up for.