As I was washing my face before bed, I noticed that there was lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of cold water. Which was not getting warm. And thus, a house-capade which led us to the inescapable conclusion that our hot water heater was not working. A pilot light had gone out, which we--and by "we," I obviously mean "the historian"--could not get lit. Thus, a call to a plumber, but not until morning, because on the water heater, it says, and I quote, "If you cannot light the pilot light, call your pilot light lighting professional. But not until morning."
And thus, a slow fume on my part about turning and turning in the widening gyre, the falcon cannot hear the falconer, things fall apart, the centre cannot hold, mere anarchy is loosed upon the world &c &c. Not to mention the toilet in the hall bathroom needs a whole new mechanism thingie. Not to mention we need weatherstripping everywhere and probably new windows. Not to mention the mice.
And thus, a conversation in the dark, 12:30-ish a.m.
Me: So, you're saying that you don't think the house is just f***ing with us. You're saying, stuff sometimes breaks, so then you just fix it. And that's just how it is.
The historian: Yes. The latter.
TAGS: chaos theory, second law of thermodynamics
