My Roommates Think I'm Crazy

We've upgraded our kitchen with a new fridge & stove this week. Thanks to Darren's impeccable taste, we have a gorgeous stainless and black side by side refridgerator and matching gas stove. Because of his impeccable taste, he decided to save money and install the stove himself, with OR's help (other roomie, David). Before you immediately freak, please keep in mind that Darren does a majority of our home repairs, from plumbing to weather stripping to painting, etc. He isn't your typical flaming queer...he knows how to do more than a trendy faux finish and window treatments. Think of him as all of the Queer Eye guys combined.

They had some trouble with the gas hose, since the old one appeared to have been built into the wall since the dawn of time. In fact, it wouldn't unscrew at all. So now we have the old hose attached to the new hose attached to the stove. The next day I came home and immediately announced I smelled gas. Sure, it was faint, but my nose knows. And since it wasn't overpowering, I knew it wasn't the dog.

OR arrived home from work and confirmed he, too, could smell something although he wasn't certain it was natural gas. Darren thought the house smelled musty. Our house is usually devoid of foul odors, unless you count the cat box right after Jenny Craig has made a deposit, so my panic set in. Darren had a dinner planned for our friends and I was terrified we were going to die in a fiery explosion that would rock the neighborhood and be felt as far away as Slaughter Lane.

Darren & OR listened to my worries of impending doom for a short while (about 3 minutes) before deciding I was crazy. After calling the gas company and being transferred to the emergency gas leak department, they were irritated as well as firmly certain I was crazy. The gas company said a tech was on his way out and to please not turn any lights, appliances, cell phones or computers on. I meekly asked what could happen if all of the above were already in use (the t.v., washer & dryer, dishwasher, my cell phone, numerous lights AND a lighted candle that Darren was employing to show me my fears were unfounded). The gas company representative admonished me to leave it all on but to please wait outside the home.

After turning off the lights, the boys decided to go to the grocery store. I blew out the candle in the living room, grabbed Harley's leash and a Lone Star and went outside to wait on the gas company. Yes, I left Jenny Craig indoors to fend for herself.

The tech, Pete, arrived just as Darren & OR got back from HEB. He listened to my story and said that he didn't know me well enough to confirm I was crazy but he'd definitely be able to tell us if there was a leak. The boys assured Pete that there was no need to debate my insanity, whether or not a leak was found. A scant 10 minutes later Pete was back outside to discuss the findings.

He found no major leak but said the hose-on-hose action was a major taboo. The old hose is badly in need of replacement and could have a minor leak that he was unable to detect. Pete said the odor added to gas is much stronger than the actual amount of gas leaked, and our home was safe. He did caution us to replace the hose with one single new one.

I endured the wisecracks from the guys all evening, but hey, it's better to be safe than sorry. Or crispy crittered.

And Darren made a fantastic spaghetti & meatball feast, with no explosions or other catastrophies. Those of us lucky enough to eat his balls can tell you they are quite tasty. Just a hint of garlic, a whiff of thyme and a kiss of oregano. Delicious!