Mr. Mom and the Desert heat

"I had to drive to work today in a freaking blizzard! You couldn't even see if the stoplights were red or green or whatever color they're supposed to be because they were all covered in snow!" -Anonymous source from the Current-Argus newsroom

No, I didn’t wither away in the heat of the desert. And no, I didn’t get eaten by a mountain lion. The reason it has taken me so long to make this post is that I didn’t have internet in ‘my place’ until yesterday.

Speaking of my place, I’ve been thinking it needs a better name. Kukla’s (quite literal) Korner or DK Kountry obviously came to mind rather quickly. But then I outdid even myself in coming up with the new official name for my place: Kukla’s Krib. I wonder how my landlord will feel about a house sign out front.

The krib is coming along quite nicely now. I spent my first week doing some serious homemaking (or I guess that’s kribmaking). Besides making all-too-frequent Walmart runs to buy the various things I kept discovering I needed, I also got down and dirty with some heavy duty cleaning. Yes, you can just go ahead and start calling me Mr. Mom (actually, on second thought, don’t do that).

While the place is now pretty much fully functional, it wasn’t always that way. The first night I spent in here I slept on my newly bought $50 couch without heat. It made for quite the pathetic scene if I do say so myself. Here I was, just me, my couch and an empty apartment with no heat or hot water, much less cable or internet. And for those of you who are finding it hard to feel sympathetic for poor Dan complaining about a lack of heat in the middle of the desert, let me just call your attention to the lovely picture of my car… covered in SNOW!

That’s right, it snows here. Yes here, as in the desert. So yeah, it is cold, especially when your krib is without heat. That night all I could do was bury myself inside my sleeping bag wrapped in the three blankets I own and quote Dr. Evil: “It’s frickin freezing in here Mr. Bigglesworth.” That’s pretty much how the night went for me, except there was no Mr. Bigglesworth so I was talking to myself.

Now this whole anecdote poses one very valid and logical question. Why would I move into my place when I knew I didn’t have heat? What happened to Reid and his place? (Ok so that was two questions). Ah, touche my friend. Well you see, the gas company was supposed to come turn on my heat and hot water earlier that day. This was also the day my bed was supposed to arrive. Notice the key word in both of those last two sentences. “Supposed” to. As in they were scheduled to but didn’t.

The gas man did finally arrive the next morning. It didn’t take him long to discover that my heater and water tank are both boarded up behind a wall. Upon making this discovery he proclaimed, “I’m not allowed to open stuff like that so you’re gonna have to do that part yourself.” Not ok. Not at all. In my head I was basically left with two options: a) start tearing into the wall at the expense of my deposit before I even paid it or b) tell the gas man to come back later, and who knows when that would be. I was literally standing in front of the boarded wall with a hammer in hand when it occurred to me I should call the real estate agency. They sent out their ‘handy man’ right away. Whew.

Opening and closing the wall was still just as much of a project as I thought it would be. On the bright side, I finally met my neighbor living next door in apartment B. Apparently she works a night shift and was just getting to bed when all the hammering started. So yeah, at least that wasn’t awkward.

When the gas man left, the heater still wasn’t on. He insisted the gas was connected and all the handy man needed to do was flip the breaker once to restart it. I can’t tell you how incredibly reassuring that was. Handy man to me: “You stand here and watch for the flames. I’ll go back and look for the breaker box.” Me (nervously): “Uh, ok.” When those flames actually did turn on I about put a hole in the ceiling with my head from jumping so high. Talk about relief.

In all honesty though, I may be over sensationalizing the whole cold thing. While the night without heat was uncomfortably cold, it was just one night. As for the snow, it was more funny than anything else. I coulda had a great picture for you all because when I woke up Thursday morning it looked like a blizzard outside. But when I got out of the shower 10 minutes later, the blizzard was over and the snow was already half melted off my car. I only have the picture I do because we got a slight re dusting Friday morning.

Other than our quick “blizzard” (overhearing conversations about the snow at work was great fun… you woulda thought we were in Canada with all the tall tales I heard) and some rain the night before, the weather here has been quite peachy. I played disc golf Monday and have been in short sleeves more often than not.

When I started this post I planned to provide updates on work life and my rapidly developing social scene. Seeing as my word count is already over 900, however, I will have to save that for next time. Until then (I promise it won’t be as long of a wait, now that I have internet and all) enjoy the bright sunny January weather in St. Louis, Oxford, Illinois or wherever you are. I sure am enjoying it here in the Southwest.


2 Responses to Mr. Mom and the Desert heat

  1. Ellen says:

    Yes, Carlsbad majorly overreacts to snow. The park actually closed early on Thursday because of it–haha! On the other hand, the windy mountain road WAS icy, and nobody down here knows how to drive in snow, even if it’s only half an inch. So it was probably for the best.

  2. Dad says:

    Dan – how about Kukla’s Kave? You are now a kave, man.

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