We have a shower again. Yes, we have spent almost a whole week (!) unable to use the tub.

Were we smelly? Surprisingly, not really. My Nana was kind enough to let us use her shower over the weekend, and then the landlord gave us the keys to another (empty) apartment in which to shower. It felt kind of like college, or maybe summer camp, as we carried towels, clothes, and various soaps and shampoos across the street.

So, why were we showerless, you ask? Well, since we moved in--and mind you, we moved in over five weeks ago--we had been asking the landlord to do something about the drain in our tub. Up until a week ago it drained slower than slow, and even made gross gurgling sounds. Not good.

After a couple of weeks of bugging the landlord, the maintenance guy poured some clog-busting stuff down the drain, but that didn't do a darned thing. About a week and a half later, Maintenance Guy finally came back to snake the drain. He thought he busted something loose because the pipe was moving around or something. We were told not to shower that night because the plumbers couldn't come until the morning. So we didn't shower. When the plumbers arrived, they said that the pipe didn't break, that it was only the coupling.

So, after it was "fixed," Mike and I happily showered away, until Saturday, when we ran into Maintenance Guy on the street. It turns out that the plumbers were wrong, that the pipe actually did break. He said that the basement apartments were flooded with about two inches of our shower water. Thus, we were not allowed to bathe. He said he'd have plumbers out early Monday morning.

Monday comes and goes, and no plumbers. Tuesday comes and goes, and no plumbers. Wednesday, same freakin' deal.

Today is Thursday, and it's finally fixed. I really can't wait to take a shower. Sheesh.

In other news, we have yet to strike gold in our continuing quest for an above-mediocre dining experience. We've been cooking at home a lot, which is fun in its own right. (Mike made some killer fried tilapia a week or so ago. If we had made the french fries ourselves, it would have been a perfect fish-and-chips meal. Mmm.)

Last night, though, we had a hankering to go out to eat, and we had heard that a diner in our neighborhood called Little Pete's was pretty reliable. We ate some pretty standard diner food, which is to say it's not that great. I mean, a diner is a diner.

We were the only people there under 50. It was us and a bunch of gray heads. I really wished I had had a camera with me.