On Saturday evening, I fell off a chair in my apartment & when I hit the floor, the whole place went dark. Apparently the force of the fall shook something loose in the electrical arena - something the weekend repairmen couldn't fix. "Someone will be in to fix it on Monday while you're at work," they promised me.
Today, I received a note in my mailbox from the receptionist. "Dear Kate," it reads, "Thursday will be the earliest anyone can come to repair electrical problems. Cleon repaired one outlet & that's what you can use until Thursday."
Ignoring the blatantly amusing fact that the repairman's named is, of all things, CLEON (Cletus Judd goes Klingon?), I want to know: Why in Jesus' name it should take five whole days to restore power to my breadbox of a studio?!?!