Ah, Murphy’s Law came into play two days ago. Our neighbor, who lives across the state highway from us, came over a few weeks ago. He told me his well was running dry and he wanted to hook up to the regular water main which runs through our pasture parallel to the road. It would take a crew (from the company that he works for) to dig up the main on my side, make a hole on his side, drill under the roadway, and connect things.
Before you dig, you call Dig Right, who comes out and flags all utility lines. My neighbor did this. The first time they were out, they only flagged the water main. I told my neighbor that there was a gas line running parallel to the water main. So, he called Dig Right again and they came out and flagged the gas line as well.
So, on Monday of this week, he called and said things were going to go into motion on the next day. Tuesday dawned and I closed the gate to the upper pasture so the horses would not go into the area where they intended to work. That’s when the fun began. It seems that even though Dig Right had marked the main lines (water and gas), they had not bothered to mark the gas line that comes to my house … and guess where the plumbers were digging. The backhoe operator saw the yellow plastic gas pipe that services my house and did not sever it. However, a laborer, who was cleaning dirt around it once it had been identified, nicked the line.
The neighbor came up to the house about 10:30 AM and told me what had happened. Our furnaces were continuing to work given that the nick was small. The gas company had been called and was to be there shortly to repair the line.
I had to leave for some appointments. When I returned around 2:15, I saw a gas company tag on our front door telling me that my gas had been shut off and to call them to turn it back on. I did so within minutes. Time passed. No one came (or so I thought). Around 4:30, I went outside to feed the horses and saw another gas company tag on the door telling me they had been there at 3:15 and no one was there, so to call them again to turn on service. I had been inside the whole time. To my knowledge, no one knocked or rang the doorbell during that time.
I called again, a bit piqued I must admit, and was told they would be back shortly. We were scheduled to go a mortuary visitation followed by a social event that night. Oh, and it’s supposed to be 22 degrees overnight. Time passed. No one came. I called again about 6:00. I was told I was “next” on the emergency crew list, but no one knew when that would be. I dressed for the evening and made sure I checked the front door every few minutes and listened carefully in case the gas company came.
The temperature in the house dropped starting at sunset. I added layers of clothing as the mercury dipped. During this time, I talked to Marian frequently. She had made the visitation. We kept revising plans as the time passed. Finally, at 7:30, the gas company technician arrived. He turned on the meter, came inside, and turned on all our gas appliances. Everything worked except one furnace (luckily not the one that heats our bedroom). He could not figure out why it would not light (all have electronic ignitions). He left. I left and joined Marian and friends for dinner (having called to make sure wine was already poured at me place). The next day, our HVAC guy came and bled air out of the system of the one furnace that would not light and then it worked perfectly.
Oh, the same crew severed the neighbor’s phone line and almost did the same thing to his electric service. And they do this for a living (plumbing, I mean).
I have had the luxury of picking raspberries from our vines from spring until this week, when it got down well below freezing. I have had enough to share with friends. As the season wore on, I had enough to put on each day’s cereal. Then there were only a few to be eaten as picked. Yesterday, in the morning, I picked the last few ripe berries, just a bit frosty from the night before.
