Sun’s going down and I’ve got this swinging Albert Tootie Heath album “Kwanza” on. It never reached forty degrees today. I went out skiing before noon when it was probably about thirty-eight degrees or so. Warm enough to soften the ice but not enough to create that easy going corn snow I had yesterday. I can’t recall a winter I so dreaded seeing depart. Every day I can still ski out there seems a blessing. Odd, to want to wish off spring.
Jack was here last night. T. Webber Plumbing was to have come on the weekend. He came last night, right around this time. I have a genealogically favorable disposition towards plumbers. My grandad, my namesake, whom I never got to meet was a plumber by trade. Jack’s the expert and I welcome him, “can I get ya some coffee? It’s late, water?” The dishwasher doesn’t drain. He has a few hypotheses. They seem measured. I leave him to it.
He called me back out to the kitchen about fifteen minutes later. Thing were still hypothetical. Either the pump that takes the water out had overheated, begun to melt, or there was something stuck up in there. Either way, that was beyond his remit. We explored the possibilities around fix-it vs. replace-it. He was detailed and professional and though he could have charged me more for their standard visit, he didn’t. And I went to get my wallet so I could tip Jack before he left. But I only had four singles in there.
There was no smart way to allow for me tipping on my card. Some guys had abused the system. Imagine that. You’d think there’d be an app that allowed a secure way to tip these gentleman, that was transparent. But no matter. Jack informed me that if I could do a Google review it was worth its weight in gold. So I followed through after he left and it was straight forward. I wondered about the permenance of such a review and considered the value it did indeed embody. And, I still need to fix my dishwasher.
Thursday, 03/04/21
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