Learning on two fronts

First we visit the ever-popular job search front, where we have a sign that things may indeed be getting better. In the past week I was, first, approached by a potential employer about a job I would never have thought of for myself. This used to happen in the good ol' dot-com boom days, when all one had to do was hang out a cyber shingle, then find the world at the door. The interesting thing about the interviews that result from such things is that the dynamic gets reversed. Instead of you persuading them about your abilities, they are persuading you what a good fit you'd be. No, I did not fall off the turnip truck. When I get in this situation, due diligence follows.

Next, another echo from the good ol' days. I applied for one of those jobs that usually rings the "overqualified" chime with employers. Hope having abandoned me, I expected nothing but the usual black hole treatment. Au contraire: HR called first to set up a phone screen. When I called back, they said that on second thought they were sending this up to the hiring manager. She in turn responded with almost 20 pages of exams, of a sort that I haven't seen since I studied for my certificate. I opened that email Saturday morning and didn't start until Monday (see below). At the moment the score is tied, and I hope to get this paperwork done tomorrow.

The reason I didn't start until Monday comes from the second front, home improvement. I bet you didn't know that a porcelain toilet tank can spontaneously crack when the weather is very hot and the water in the tank is very cool. Odd, yes; rare, yes, but it can happen and did happen last Thursday night at Chez Oncle. The only witnesses to the actual failure were the two very astounded cats, whose puzzled noises (and the sound of rushing water) brought the humans.

There is much more water in those tanks than you would think.

Early the next morning we called our plumber, who called back in under an hour. (This is what happens when you give all your business to one plumbing contractor.) After a bit of hemming and hawing about style, space, etc., we had a new crapper soon after midday.

It has one slightly creepy feature which will endear it to wives wherever plumbing is indoors: after a slight push, the seat closes itself. Slowly, I might add, so one has time to get clear and watch this thing from across the room.

Back to all that water. The deluge moved a nice-to-do project—re-tiling the bathroom floor—up to an immediate priority. Buying the tile took care of Friday afternoon. Regular readers may recall that this is the only john in the house, that it is on the ground floor, and that it was once a cute Victorian side porch. This was the bright idea of the strange character who lived here in the first half of the 20th century. I am the third generation of oddballs to live here.

It's not the strangest bathroom location hereabouts, though. I've been in two antique houses that have even smaller necessaries stuck under the stairs. However, once the appliances are in, that cute side porch makes a very small bathroom. The size means a small tile budget. However, it also means working a section at a time so that the facility can remain in use at stated intervals. Small also means an uncommonly large amount of twisting and turning, as well as cutting and fitting, which means the job takes about twice as long as would your ordinary 5 x 8 bathroom.

That job is not entirely done. When I ran out of Sunday, three old tiles remained unconquered. Now that my priority is taking my third go at coding exams. When that's done, it's back to the tiles. Interesting how what, in other circumstances, would be a trial turns into a respite.

Any suggestions for inter-costal sprains?