Waiting for the Plumber

I didn't hear them pouring concrete next door at 3:30 in the morning.  TBG, his first night home, still jet lagged and time zone muddled, was roused by the trucks' bright lights and the beeping as they reversed.  He was uprooted from bed when the cement mixer began spewing its contents into the frame of the nascent garage next door.

I, deaf as a door nail without my hearing aids, was sleeping blissfully until he woke me, wondering how the noise and lights hadn't done so before.

He went out to investigate.  Yes, our neighbors' worker bees were there, in the dark, pouring concrete.  Apparently, it won't set properly in Arizona's August heat; they needed to get it done before the sun came up.  No, they were not interested in stopping right now!

We were not amused.  We called the sheriff.  If there's an ordinance that sent a deputy to Little Cuter's wedding party because the amplified music was banned after 10pm, there certainly must be an ordinance about construction at 3am.

There was not a light on next door.  Knowing that no one could sleep through the racket, we assumed they were out of town, unaware of the project being done in the wee hours.  We were wrong.

We waited in the courtyard to see what would happen, when our totally abashed neighbor walked across the yard, followed by a sheriff's deputy.

They told me they would have to start early.  I had no idea they meant THIS early.

His heartfelt apologies went on for quite some time.  He was mortified.  There was nothing to be done; the workers had satisfied the deputy that they were unaware that they were breaking any rules.  Apparently, my supervisor didn't tell me was enough to dissuade the officer from taking any further steps.

Apologies accepted - after all, they weren't getting any more sleep than we were and we like them a lot- we retreated to our respective domiciles and listened for another hour until the noise stopped.

And life went on, until last night when plunk...plunk....plunk...plunk.... went on for longer than I could stand it.  How I could hear it remains a mystery, but hear it I most certainly did.  I made sure the handle was completely set, but the drips continued.  A pillow over my head did nothing.  I got a step stool and removed the shower head, only to find that the drip was coming from the pipe itself.

Then, I dropped the shower head.  It was not a quiet sound.  Within seconds, TBG was standing, foggy eyed and frowning, in the shower beside the stool.

WHAT are you doing up there?

And then, of course, he had to try everything I had already tried.

I collected a bucket to collect the water - it's the desert after all; wasting water is a sin - but the plunks turned to plinks and they were very very very loud.  I put a towel in the bottom of the bucket; the plonks were quieter than the plinks and the plunks so I went back to sleep.

And this morning, because my handyman thought that this week would be a good time to take a vacation, I searched on Yelp for a plumber.  I chose a family man with 19 five star ratings; he'll be here between 12 and 2, unless he finishes his first job sooner.

Waiting for the plumber..... not exactly how I'd planned to spend today.  I'll use the waiting time to see if I can figure out  how to turn off the water to the house.  That seems like something I should know.... after 13 years.