Who You Gonna Call?

As much as I dislike cliches, this one:, “It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” cemented its truth on my brain this morning.  Isn’t it wonderful to have a cadre of experts who are there for you at any time?  Yes, any time.  

When our trees die we call the tree specialists, when our disposal overflows we call our kitchen expert, when our water pipes break we call the plumber, and when the roof leaks we run to our neighbors for a glass of wine and hope it stops!  But we usually have those “important” phone numbers on a refrigerator magnet, if not on speed dial. 

Some of you may be lucky enough to live with a “specialist” and s/he can fix everything from a video machine clock to a software glitch, from a broken window to a burned dinner, and from an overflowing toilet to a broken heart.  Then there are those of us who are solo who can only hope that those miracle men and women live near by if we need them to come over, or at least are within those magic ten numbers and can walk us through the problem.

I was on a walk-through this morning.  It’s a wonder that as an adult woman I manage to have a relatively problem-free home and life style.  Now, I’m not even ascertaining that I live without a tad of trauma or drama in any given month, but for the most part life’s been good to me,my car, my house, my computer, phone, tv, etc.  It’s the little irritations that make a big cloud in my day: the thermostat had that title this morning.

Sleeping in a cool house – summer and winter – makes for a peaceful and placid seven or eight hours for me.  The long hot summer nights make my REMs cranky, but winter time I leave the heat either off or at 60.  Yes, in the morning I run – race- to the thermostat and turn on the heat.  This palatial estate only takes ten minutes to heat up. (I know when it’s warm enough because me cats come out from under the covers!)This morning was no different.  During Denver’s fall  it’s warm during the day, cool at night, or cool during the day and cold at night, but it’s still keep-the-heat-off weather for me most evenings.  

This morning my house temperature was 59f – or 12c!  Yikes, it’s cold.  When I turned on the thermostat…nothing. Nada.  Zilch. Zero.  Blank stare back from the temperature and time window.  Whoops.  What’s a single woman to do at 7 a.m.?  Well, I have my miracle man who usually fixes everything for me, when time permits: windows, gutters, door latches, broken toys, light fixtures, electrical outlets…anyway, he’s my, who-ya-gonna-call man.  He walked me through the trauma of fixing my heat problem.  Guess what?  It was three small AA batteries that had finally  moved into hibernation: nothing major. 

If I had called a handyman, a plumber, an electrician,or  the Mayor it would not only have been $100 battery change, but would have taken hours.  The whole process of me going up and down stairs to check the fuse, outside to check the fuse box, and finally unscrewing the thermostat and replacing the batteries took me less than :15, thanks to dear Patrick.

I don’t think anyone counts of me at 7 a.m., except my cats, maybe.  But I do know that some of you count of me to help in educational areas during your times of need of my expertise.  We have our expertise and when we expand our network to let others know we’re there for them, to share our knowledge, then the world runs smoother.  Yes?  It did for me this morning.  How about you? How’s your day?

Thanks Patrick for all you do;  I know I’ll be calling again!

Happy before-the-snow Tuesday.



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