The Boy had to break into our house a few months ago because he locked himself out and I was out of town. He broke in by knocking on our neighbor's door, and convincing our neighbor to let him climb out onto the gutter - six flights above ground - that runs along our two apartments. The neighbor, when this was suggested to him, actually said, "Ok, but if you fall, I had nothing to do with this, ok?"
As if he would survive the fall.
Anyway, so he climbed over on the ledge and broke our window with the hammer he had borrowed from The Neighbor Man. Then he opened the window and pulled himself in, spilling into our kitchen from the outside, his hand slightly cut from the shards of glass he didn't see along the window ledge.
Thankfully, I wasn't around to see him do any of this.
I was, however, around a week later when the window still hadn't been fixed. No problem, sure, broken window. That's just fine, in the summertime, because we keep the window open all day anyway (it's a slanted window, so even in the rain, we can keep it open because the rain just slides down off it and into the gutter). Plus, a nice breeze does a Parisian kitchen good.
What doesn't do a Parisian good is a noticeable September (now October...how did that happen?) chill.
We called The Repair Guy, who charged us up the ass for our window replacement - a normal window would only be 75 euros but our special slanted window is going to put us out about 200. The Repair Guy came around 18.00, and apparently he brought the wrong type of window. He didn't figure that out, of course, until after he had completely uninstalled the previous window.
And as it was already past six, he couldn't run back to the store, grab a new window, and come all the way back to our house before it was time to head home for the day.
So now we have a bit more than a noticeable September (October, whatever) chill coming into our kitchen. We have a huge-ass hole with a serious current, threatening to powerhouse some rain onto my onions and spice rack. By huge-ass hole, I mean a hole that literally takes up 1/3 of my kitchen wall facing west. It's big, and it's empty. I would feel like my house is exposed to robbers or thieves, were it not six flights up. Instead, I feel like a pigeon is going to think he can just keep right on flying through that gaping hole, straight on into my house where he will flap and squawk and shit on my carpet until I force him out with a broomstick.
I've decided to spend tomorrow far, far from the house. There just better be a window in my kitchen when I get back by nightfall.