Just when we started to turn the corner on Grammy’s mood swings, we’ve been hit with a rash of appliance woes. First, upon the death of our Harvest Gold electric range, and the poor performance of the Whirlpool glasstop range, we finally decided on a Whirlpool gas range. It all sounded great–stainless steel, 12,500 btu power burner, AccuBake setting, etc. I had scheduled a plumber (not our usual one, due to scheduling difficulty) to arrive just after delivery of the stove so he could extend our natural gas line up to the kitchen. This loser turned out to be a no-call/no-show, and Shawna called around extensively trying to find another plumber to come on short notice.

After calling every single plumber in the book, most of whom never even had the courtesy to return our call, Shawna ended up overbooking to make sure SOMEONE showed up. In the meantime, we ate our fill of microwaveable and toaster-ovenable meals over the weekend, which resulted in several bouts of irritable bowel syndrome.

Finally, on Monday morning, we were blessed with the fortune of the plumber who had initially planned on just scoping out our project being able to actually do the work right then and there. By early afternoon, we had an actual, functional stove to cook with. Shawna was the first to use it, and she made chicken panang curry.

Then, that night, I woke up with a start and said to Shaw, I smell gas! I quickly got up and went downstairs to the kitchen and sniffed around the stove. I didn’t smell anything, and wondered if I was being paranoid–or if it was the kimchi that we had just bought! I went down to the basement and sniffed around the gas line, the furnace, and up where the plumber installed the flexible pipe. I definitely smelled something, but it was so faint I couldn’t be sure. I stuck my face up to where the pipe went up through the floor and sniffed harder. I even fanned the area to see if maybe it was just lingering odor–but it returned.

Thinking it was possible that I was being paranoid, I went back up to bed. I tossed and turned for a while, then finally decided that my baby-danger instinct was too great, and if there was any possibility of a gas leak (and potential explosions), I wanted Grammy near me. She was sleeping soundly, but I scooped her right up and brought her upstairs. Shawna was nonplussed–she asked why, and I just said I needed to hold her. I didn’t want her to know how paranoid I was.

The next morning, I snuck out of bed while Grammy slept and went down to the basement for a re-sniff. It definitely smelled. I decided to call NYSEG, thinking at least that it wasn’t the middle of the night, and the fire department wouldn’t be involved (which we’ve done in the past). I figured it was free, and worth the humiliation if in fact I was being paranoid. At least I’d be able to sleep.

NYSEG came within 30 minutes, and to make a long story short, the guy confirmed that there was a gas leak, and said our plumber did a terrible job. He was appalled that they were licensed. This plumber wouldn’t even answer their “emergency” phone line–and we were left with no heat, since the NYSEG guy couldn’t leave without shutting off our main line. Our regular plumber–whom we will never cheat on again!–came within an hour, and fixed the other guy’s mistake. He also found an o-ring that was supposed to be inside the brass fitting, on the floor. What was most appalling, I found out the next day, was that Plumber #1 had the nerve to stick his callback stickers all over our furnace and hot water heater. Needless to say, I tore them all off.

Today was our first day of cooking, sans drama. That is, until Shawna tried to warm a bottle for Grammy in the microwave, when it just decided to expire. Onto the next appliance adventure…