The glass repairmen came today. But they did not fix my window. What an odd development.

I was watching tv ’round 11 o’clock when I heard a voice outside: “hello?”. Kinda like the cop. I answered back and the voice said “I’m just going to measure your window”. I said “okay” and went to the window and looked out. Two glacial fixeruppers were outside, one of them climbing up twards my window. I turned around and walked back inside. And then the voice said “no, I think we’re going to come back tomorrow instead”. I said “okay” and they left. I don’t think he even had time to measure the window before he said they’d come tomorrow instead. I’m not quite sure why they didn’t just get it done while they were here. Perhaps they saw that it was only the outer set of glass that was broken and they figured it wasn’t too bad and perhaps they had other more urgent jobs that they should rather do first? Or maybe they just wanted to mess with my head, dude. I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s fine just knowing they’ll come tomorrow. I could take it easy the rest of the day and go out and do some shopping and be at peace. And tomorrow it’ll be done and no more worries. Fine enough.

A picture of the broken glass. The hole doesn’t show too well because, well it’s transparent glass eh. But you can see the cracks at least. So I’m not making it all up. Don’t call me a liar. My pants are rarely on fire and almost never from lying. So there. I feel vindicated.

Also, I have kept on track vis-a-vis the “no napping” agenda. It’s hard, though. Around noonish I just get a great desire to go to bed. Everything is much easier in bed, as the nun said to the sailor.

Oh yes.

As I finished typing up my entry yesterday I was startled by the sound of a ball hitting my window. And glass breaking. And then the headache came rushing in and all I could think was “no no no”. Because breaking glass means dealing with things and people and why won’t you leave me alone?

I probably sat there for several minutes with my head in my hands, hoping the world would quietly slip away and stop bothering me. But the world staid in place. And my window is broken. The outer part. It’s some kind of thermo window with two sets of glass. The outer set has a nice ball-sized hole and cracks all along the way. At least the inner set of glass is intact.

Today I called the operating office of the housinge corporation. Told them about the broken window. The nice lady said she’d call the… whatyoucallem? The people what repairs windows. Glaziers? Glasers? Glass Repair Men? Anyway, those guys. So all day today I have been waiting for them. And they have not come. I guess it was wrong of me to assume they’d be here so fast. What a waste of time. I hope they’ll come tomorrow. Not that getting the window fixed is so urgent. But I just want to get it over with. Dealing with all this make my stomach ache. It makes my phobia shout and scream and dance and compose illiterate symphonies. Knowing there are strangers coming, that I have to talk to them and let them in my apartment and everything.. it makes me unhappy. And I know, rationally, that it won’t be that bad. It never is. They’ll do their job and be on their way and I will have worried for nothing. But I can’t help the worrying. So if I could just have it over with, kthanxbye.

I’m just glad the whole window wasn’t broken. The ball hit almost exactly where I was sitting, just higher up. Imagine all the glass everywhere and the scare and the cold, cold air. The operating office is closed on Sunday too, I wonder if a completely broken window is emergency enough to call the emergency line? Would glassing people have come urgently then? Or would I have had to go days with no window? No point in wondering about that I guess.

One of the things I did to waste time while waiting in vain was watching a rerun of an ALF episode on the telly. You remember Alf, don’t you? I thought it was funny in the intro sequence when he films into the mirror you see him holding this gigantic camera. If they made a remake of that today he’d be holding this tiny little cellphone. In fact everyone would be holding tiny little cell phones. And there would be lots more sex and violence, of course.

And who wouldn’t want that?