Swirling Thoughts #17 - a low profile dud shemesh and the problem with Amerikayim

I’ve been hounding my landlord to come fix my dud shemesh for two straight weeks. Also there’s the issue of the second floor air conditioning which dumped no less than five full buckets of water through the ceiling vent exactly 2 minutes after the painters finished painting that part of the ceiling. I joke with Bob that what we’re wasting on electricity (each time we push the magical button to heat the water electrically), we’re saving by not being able to run the upstairs air conditioner. But as time wears on, my patience is wearing thin. When the washer-dryer installation guy told me the drain for the washer was leaking and needed to be moved, it came time to stop waiting for the landlord and hire a plumber. I posted that I was looking for a plumber on the Efrat Chat list. That was at about one in the morning before I went to bed. When I got up and checked the computer before 8 there were about 10 responses. Most of them pointed to the same guy so I called him. And he said he was on his way. But then, too soon after he hung up, there was someone at the door. What do you know – it was my landlord. He turned on the hot water (which OF COURSE was hot) and then explained to me that if there is already hot water this early in the morning (9-ish) then there must have been hot water all night long. I explain to him that NO THERE WASN’T and he starts lamenting about how Amerikayim use too much hot water. They love hot water. Now he’s saying all this in Hebrew to the plumber who walked in (how awkward!) just a minute after him. And now she wants to put in a hot water feed for her American washer – what a waste! We go over the fact that I have not yet run the washer, that I have not yet run the dishwasher, that all we’ve been using any hot water for during the day is to wash our hands! He keeps telling me how the dud has 200 somethings of water and it should be plenty but Amerikayim use too much hot water. When I ask about the air conditioner he suggests I run it for an hour and see how much water comes out. I look at him like he’s insane and tell him I can’t deal with water pouring from my ceiling just now. He shrugs. As he’s leaving, I am situated on my club chair in the back corner of my living room, the chair from which my babysitter said it looks like I am ruling the house. She called it my throne. From there, I said goodbye to the landlord who is telling me that all my problems are not really problems – not his problems anyway. He’s visibly uncomfortable from the defeated and sad look on my face but other than that, I feel powerless from my throne.

After he leaves I ask the plumber just how much water is in my dud. 200 somethings turns out to be just 35 gallons. Enough for four showers. But we’re not getting even one. Something is amiss. He mentions something about my dud being low profile. Normally I like to be low profile but I’m not sure having a low profile dud is such a good thing – whatever that means. He’s coming back Sunday to inspect the dud. But he did fix the drain and hot water for the washer. Alas, the sweetest sound I’ve heard in weeks is that of my Maytag washing machine running for the first time ever.