One thing I do enjoy about renting (over buying) is that if my toilet breaks and starts flooding the apartment, all I have to do is call the maintenance department — day or night — and some dude’ll show up to fix it.

I’ve never had to do that. I’ve never broken my toilet.

Until Tuesday night, when it just kept running water for several hours. It would cycle, stop, then start again. I could’ve gone over and opened up the toilet and maybe seen that the plunger-thingy wasn’t properly setting in place, but I was engrossed in Age of Empires II: The Age of Kings and frankly couldn’t be bothered. Since I couldn’t be bothered, I wasn’t, but at one point I got up to get a glass of milk and noticed Tippy standing on the rim of the toilet, trying to drink from the bowl.

Yes, both of my cats drink from the toilet. And the sinks when I’ve just finished using them. And the bathtub when I get out of a shower. There’s a big bowl of water in the kitchen for them, but they don’t care. They want other water. Maybe it tastes better.

In any case, poor Tippy completely flipped out and nearly fell in the toilet when it started cycling water again without warning. She was leaning forward, lost her balance, caught herself, then had to push herself back up enough so that she could jump to the ledge of the bathtub. When the water stopped running, she jumped back on the toilet, but when the water started again … well, let’s just say that after a few times, Tippy got off the toilet and didn’t go back on (that I saw).

It was funny to watch, in any case.

So today before work, I was thinking about taking my car in on Tuesday to have new oxygen sensors replaced. And I said, “fuck that”. I got sensors last fucking summer. I’m not replacing them again when the problem is most likely something else to do with the car.

So I called up a little indy repair shop in the Hereford zone of Baltimore County. I don’t go to him much — he’s a great mechanic, I might even call him brilliant, but he’s not exactly fast on his feet. Took him ten hours to get brakes put on my car the first time I went to him. Plus, he doesn’t have much in way of a waiting room and getting rides to and from there is always a hassle.

But …

So I called him up, explained the situation. He agreed that it most likely wasn’t the sensor, and thought it might be the catalytic converter. He also then said that the car might be working fine, just the computer doesn’t know it. The way the check engine light and the computer work is that when part of the car malfunctions, a signal code is sent to the computer, which triggers the check engine light. That I knew. What I didn’t know is that the code then has to be manually erased from the computer, or the check engine light will reappear when the onboard diagnostic resets itself — even if the repair has been successfully repeated. (I mean, I figure the guys who put in those sensors last summer know that … but this guy specializes in Toyotas and Hondas, so maybe he knows a trick they don’t).

Just over the phone, a level of casual and excellent service not to be found at a dealership or corporate repair shop — which is, I think, why I feel dirty going to them. I do use them frequently, mostly for convenience. Like I said, this guy isn’t exactly Mr. Speedy. But he does a great job, and no time when I’ve brought my car in have I had trouble with the repairs he’s performed.

So I’m taking my car into him on Tuesday. Hopefully I can talk Gary into letting me work an inside shift Tuesday morning so at least Gary’ll give me a ride into the store. Otherwise, I’ll be needing cab fare.

**

I got new tires today, too. Four Kelly-something-or-others for $300. Good deal.

I haven’t — (yet) — but after discussing the situation with my parents* (remember, I promised them I wouldn’t make any large purchases until I repaid them), I might be in the market for Gary’s grandfather’s place in Remington. Gary’s dad wants $60k for the place, but also says it needs half that again in work. I don’t exactly know what he means by “work”, if he means “work” as in “the roof is leaking like a pool with a hole in the bottom of it” or if he means “work” as in: “the kitchen hasn’t been remodeled since 1940″.

Well, that’s what home inspections are for, right?

Not having $30 thousand on hand for repairs is what concerns me — not so much if some of the work is cosmetic — that can wait. But for things that couldn’t wait, I’d need to be on top of that pretty much right away. Merf’s already listing the house at about half of what homes in that area are going for, so it’s unlikely he’d cut the price further to compensate for needed repairs — frankly, that’s probably why the price is so low to begin with. My only hope would be Luke Skywalker. I mean, my only hope would be a loan from the bank large enough to cover both the house and the repairs.

*There were, I think, sold on the notion that if I bought this place, I could take out my own home equity loan and repay them theirs. I wonder if I could take out an equity loan on my apartment?