Our plumber disappeared.
Like really. We’re pretty sure he’s in prison or he was the target of a mob hit because he was always very prompt in returning our calls.
My husband Rick got so concerned that he started leaving the guy messages and emails like, “We just want to know you’re okay. You don’t ever have to fix our toilet or sink again. We know we bothered you with some really dumb stuff like the time we thought the toilet handle was broken but somehow it worked perfectly fine when you got here. We promise to do better. Just let us know you haven’t been eaten by an albino alligator or something.”
I keep googling, “Chris the plumber” but it’s been absolutely no help. How can we not know this guy’s last name?
And this is familiar territory for us.
We once had a nanny from Jamaica who looked like a supermodel. And then one day, she mentioned that she was going back home for a week vacation and well, it’s been 7 1/2 years. So it seems like she might not be coming back.
At the time, I only had one baby and I’m pretty sure I asked her to write down whenever the baby pooped, ate, babbled, smiled and breathed so clearly there is only so much of that nonsense a 24-year-old supermodel can take.
And then there was this guy I was dating in my early twenties. We were seeing each other for several months and then one day he just stopped calling. Obviously, I contacted AT&T pretty damn fast to find out why I was no longer receiving incoming calls. But they insisted there was nothing wrong with my phone service. Phone companies can be annoying like that.
I, of course, feared the absolute worse. My boyfriend must be lying in some hospital, unable to communicate and desperately wanting me by his side. With no Facebook or Twitter at my disposal, I could only wait nervously for word of his safety.
I eventually found out through the grapevine that he was totally fine. In fact, finely dating other people.
He’s now married with two kids. But the poor guy is probably still suffering from the regret of blowing me off. I’m sure he’d call to tell me that if my phone was working properly.
Meanwhile, I’m anxiously waiting for some kind of communication from Chris the plumber while pleading with my twins to throw nothing in the toilet.