What a day.  I get home to half of our roof torn off,  scaffolding in the front yard by the chimney, and pounding nails.  And pounding nails.  And pounding nails.  Noisy just doesn’t do it justice.

I want to grill some burgers but these guys just keep going.  They’re working where I need to cook.  It’s 5pm.  5:30… 6…  Finally, about 6:30, everything is quiet.  I head to the kitchen to start dinner.  I turn on the gas grill, get the fries in the oven, and start to get ready to saute some onions and peppers for these bad-boy burgers I’ve been dreaming about.  I turn on the stove and – nothing.  Just the click-click-click of the electronic ignition.

I am not amused.  This is now the third time in 8 years we have run out of propane – and we’re on an auto fill.  I’m tired, cranky, haven’t eaten my dinner, and there’s no gas to COOK my dinner.  Not amused, indeed.

I call.  (“Are you sure you’re out of gas?  You should smell something if you’re out of gas.”   “Uh… if there’s no gas in the tank, there’s nothing to smell…”  “Maybe your stove isn’t working.”  “My stove isn’t working because there’s no gas going to it.”  “What does the gauge read?”   “There is no gauge.”  “How do you know you’re out of gas?”  “My stove won’t light.”)  Sometimes it’s really difficult to be civil.

So the potatoes are in the oven with the bacon, and the burgers are on the grill outside.  No sauteed peppers and onions.  Slices of raw onion will have to suffice.

Mid-way through dinner, the gas-man arrives.  Would you believe?!?  We’re out of gas!!!  I’m shocked!

He was a really nice guy, ran a pressure test, checked for leaks, couldn’t find anything wrong, filled the tank and away he went.

Burgers and fries were great.  Asiago cheese, pickles, onions, mayo, catsup, bacon…  LOTS of garlic on the fires.

And Victor made pumpkin pie for dessert.


The day had a happy ending.