Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

The Bard once famously observed that when troubles come, they come not as single spies but in battalions.  So it would appear with the port-swiller residence.

First there’s the crumbling chimney to deal with.  We went ahead and called the insurance people and they’re sending an adjuster out to have a look at the damage, but from what I gathered there’s not really much chance that they’ll pony up for the repairs unless they’re satisfied that the cracking is somehow storm-related.  It strikes me this is as likely a contributing factor as anything else, but I just don’t know how one would go about proving it.  I’ve a sinking feeling they’re going to say it was the earthquake and nothing but the earthquake, in which case we’re out in the cold.   Indeed, I’ve begun to imagine Mr. Huph from The Incredibles shouting, “PaaaaaaaaAAAARRRR!!! How are we gonna protect our shareholders from Robbo???”

Then, a week or two ago the oven conked out.  I suspect it’s a fault in the circuitry, because the electronic dashboard is dark as well.  (Don’t suggest it’s the circuit breaker – I’ve flipped the damned thing back and forth fifty times.)  The lower, auxiliary oven still works, but doesn’t have room for anything much taller than french fries or chicken nuggets.  And, as the stove-top is gas, it’s still fine.  However, if we don’t get this sorted out soon, it’ll be no roast beef for Robbo come Christmas Day.  And that’s a Bad Thing.

Now the garage door opener seems to be having some kind of nervous breakdown, taking several attempts to get all the way up or down if one has the patience not to simply disconnect the thing.  The optimist in me says that the gadget is better than ten years old and is probably coming close to the end of its useful life.  The pessimist in me says the door is getting stuck because the garage ceiling is getting ready to cave in and the tracks are coming out of alignment.

Then there’s the sink in the downstairs loo, which has started an incessant drip.  At least I can deal with that one myself.

Sorry to grumble.  Of course, comparatively speaking this is all pretty small potatoes.  Nonetheless, one does get a bit fed.  And the fact that it’s Tuesday doesn’t help much.