Today's excitement: the FedEx guy knocked on our door & said, "I smell natural gas real strongly right here."
When I called the gas company, the lady on the other end ran through the COVID questions. I answered all of them.
"On top of that," I said, "we haven't been anywhere or seen anyone."

"Ditto, Girlie," she said. "Dit. Toe."
Then she told me in detail all the things her family has done to their yard instead of vacationing.
The nice guy from the gas company looked around at all our appliances. After inspecting our tankless water heater outside, he smacked his head on the large ceramic bat we have hanging by the door.
He determined that we did indeed have a gas leak under our house, & that we would need a plumber, & he turned off all the gas.
About half an hour later, he was back. "I think I lost my glasses? In your backyard? In the bat area."
I got them for him. Now here I sit, in a gasless house, awaiting the plumber.
Also officially now our backyard has a "bat area."
The plumbers are here. You have to access the underneath house through our bathroom cabinet (no cellars in Austin). I embarrassedly explained why we four giant bottles of Listerine.
(We have it because it's @pludger's remedy for cat pee odor. It works!)
"No worries," he said. "I see a lot of stocking up these days."
This reminds me of when I told @Paul_Lisicky that one of the reasons I was frightened of the skunks of Provincetown is that I was told the best destinker was boxed, commercial douche.
& I was terrified I would get sprayed & everyone I knew in town would see me at the A&P, my shopping basket mounded with packages of Summer's Eve.
Three plumbers have disappeared through the medicine cabinet to the Underneath of the House.
It's like Narnia, except with plumbing.
(I bet there's no plumbing in Narnia.)
When you don't have a basement, it is very strange to hear the voices of men coming through the floorboards, I can tell you.
Another worry: the emotionally incontinent cat was first emotionally incontinent in our house after being surprised by a plumber. She's been going through a dry spell, but: one worries.
There are four plumbers in play. One has wisely stayed on this side of the Medicine Cabinet Door.
The plumber I have talked to most is a wonderful guy with a shaved head & a calm manner who even stopped to let the cat sniff his fingers.
I feel like he does interesting things in his non-plumbing time. Anyhow, he has told me that it doesn't look too bad in the Underneath.
This is especially good news because if too much plumbing is replaced in gas lines, then the city has to come out & inspect it.
Please, God, let us not involve the City if we don't have to.
There are currently plumbers on three levels of this two-story house.
Break in transmission is because the kind plumber is working on the furnace, which is upstairs through a closet & under the eaves, & the cat tried to follow him there.
If the heartwarming end of this story is, "& that, children, is how Maggie the Cat learned to love plumbers, it will have been enough."
Update: I was on one side of the dining room, & somebody walked into the house on the other side, & called "Plumber! Plumber!"
It turned out he was not hailing a plumber--though currently this is the house to come to should you wish to hail a plumber--but announcing himself.
It was the literal owner of the plumbing company, come to see how things were going & to warn us there is a chance we might need a city permit.
Then the ball-&-chain came home & asked, "What's the collective noun for plumbers?" Clog, perhaps, I suggested.
The plumbers are gone. They all assembled on the lawn before they left. There were SIX plumbers here. There were plumbers I hadn't even noticed!
We still don't have gas (somehow we need a post hoc permit from the city to replace a leaky gas pipe) but that is better than having gas where we don't want it.
Day three of no household gas. The lunch is cold. The children are fetid. The cat is indifferent. When will happy hour come?
POSSIBLE PLOT TWIST. Owner of the plumbing company called. Permit has been pulled. Inspector will come. "But I need you to make me a promise," he said.
"I need you to write a sign & put it on the door, by 8AM tomorrow at the latest. Write: CITY INSPECTOR. WE ARE HOME. KNOCK LOUDLY. Otherwise, they'll give a little knock & skitter away & then you don't have gas till Monday."
He said it as though the City Inspector is a rare bird, & he an ornithologist who knows its persnickety ways.
I promised.
NON-UPDATE: The ball-&-chain is in the living room, visiting a university class in Karachi. I am staring out the window, hoping for a glance of The City Inspector.
The sign asking The City Inspector to ring the bell & raise an alarm because we are home has been up since yesterday.
We are, indeed, home. We have been home. For literal months we have been home. We will be home for the foreseeable future but, dear City Inspector: please hurry.
If anybody is still reading my pitiful updates from Nogaslandia: the city inspector came! & our plumbing passed!
With great joy I instantly called the gas company! Who said, "The report hasn't come through. Call back in two hours."
They told me it was fine to call the emergency line, though I felt bad, because they answer, "Texas Gas Service. What's your emergency."
Which I sort of always heard as, "What's your damage."
I mean, it's no longer an emergency. I'd just like to wash my hands with hot water.
The third time I called the emergency line, the woman actually said to me, "So you DON'T have an emergency."
"I kind of smell bad," I thought, but didn't say.

"I'll transfer you to the right number," she said icily.
& she did, & I ended up talking to the most wonderful woman who looked at the clock & said, "I better reach out! It's almost 5PM!"
I was on hold for a while, & she came back & said, "I found one person still there in the right department. She's working on it, but I figure you've been on hold for too long."
Then she said, "No, you can't have my gummy bears, you silly."
It turned out she was talking to her cat. She's working from home. "That's my chubby little boy I was talking to," she explained. "I have a little girl, too."
We talked cats. Of her male cat, she said, "Luckily he doesn't pee." "That is lucky," I said, & mentioned the habits of the emotionally incontinent cat.
Oh! she said. Her little girl has a similar problem. In fact, just yesterday, she (the woman) was going to cast her absentee ballot, and picked up her purse, and...
Suffice to say her voter registration card was ruined.
I swear to you this is all factually true. I mean, from my end. The wonderful woman at the gas company might have just been trying to keep me entertained.
Anyhow, she found the right person, the inspection has been logged, & perhaps--just perhaps--we will have gas tonight.
Waiting for the Gasperson.
The Gasman Cometh.
(He just called & rather sweetly said, "Is it all right if I still come?" I said, "Let's get it over with if that's all right with you."
He answered, "I ain't going home no matter what, so it's OK with me.")
The gas man is here. Same nice gas man who turned off the gas on Tuesday. He went back to look at the hot water heater.
"Watch out for the bat!" I told him.

"I know, right?" he answered.
He is now in front theoretically turning on the gas. It sounds like he's playing a lo-fi marimba. He's been out there a concerning time.
Apparently "something is moving." As in, maybe there's another leak. It's possibly the furnace. The lovely gas man is looking at it right now.
In conclusion:
For the the curious: the medicine cabinet which leads to the Underneath.
The ceramic bat that smacked the gas man on the head.
& Maggie the Cat, who thought about following the plumbers into Narnia, but decided to stay with family.
You can follow @elizmccracken.
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