How dry I am

So after I ruined Kathleen's day by telling her that the water dripping into my pantry wasn't coming from my pipes, she called My Plumber (or maybe Her Own Plumber, I forgot to ask) and he confirmed that, yep, her tax refund will be going towards his next boat payment. She shut off the water to her place and there is no more dripping in my home. Yay!!

Of course, "yay" only applies to me because she will be having plumbers and dry-wallers in and out of her place for the next few days. I've given her my spare key so that Keeping Water Where It Belongs Professionals can look at the pipes without having to rip up her walls to do it and so that she can have access to running water and the bathroom and stuff.

Mind you, when she stops in to use my facilities, Pekoe - The Fabulous Orange Tabby - assumes that she is there to play with him and feed him. When neither turns out to be the case (and Pekoe just can't grok that when one is focused on the bathroom, it really is the only goal, not one of several which could include playing with the cat), he changes his agenda to "let's trip the human." He's really good at this from his years of practice on me.

I stopped in at her place last night and she showed me and Kathy (3rd floor neighbor) the amazingly large hole in her living room wall. (The second bathroom backs onto the living room.) It's a big hole. A really big hole. And there are lots of pipes. If any of the Devoted Readers know a good Dry Wall Guy in the Aspen Hill area, Kathleen would be grateful.

Of course, the Sword of Damocles still hangs over both of us because John, who lives above Kathleen, still has the stupid qwest pipes.

There's lots of borrowed time in Aspen Hill and we're living on it.