Still no water. But today, I tripled my efficiency in dealing with the problem. Yes, today instead of being ignored by one plumber who was supposed to call me, I was ignored by three. But I resolved to just deal with it. On the way home, after taking a shower at birder2's, I stopped for gas, at the (as of today) bargain price of $2.999/gallon. I got in the car and closed the door, and something made a funny clinking sound. I tried to roll the window up, and it didn't close all the way. Trying to lower it and raise it got it stuck lower. I stopped at the Goodyear store, and asked if they could possibly do anything about it. This was, of course, just after 5. They couldn't. But in the course of fiddling with the window to demonstrate the problem, somehow the glass got stressed impressively, though I wasn't aware of it. There was this cracking sound, and the whole window transformed from a sheet of glass to a green marbled patchwork, riddled with cracks with an average spacing of 2-3mm. Amazingly, the window was mostly intact, and the transformation was instantaneous. It would have been cool, if it hadn't been my car that was self-destructing. After the mess was somewhat cleaned up, I headed to Farm and Fleet on the Goodyear guy's recommendation, to get some plastic sheeting to try to cover the window until it could be fixed Monday. Nobody at Farm and Fleet had heard of Visqueen, the plastic the guy said I should get, but I found some plastic sheeting that seemed like it would do, and tried to stick a piece of it over the window in the parking lot, using the duct tape I had in the car tool box -- which had been in the car way too long. It had progressed perhaps not halfway, but at least a quarter of the way, from layers of tape to undifferentiated goo. I should have gone back in to the store and bought a fresh roll, but the outermost layers weren't as bad and I was mostly done with the job before it really sank in how awful it was. My wonderful patch job didn't even make it to the interstate; as soon as I hit 40 MPH it started coming off. I drove home with my left hand clutched on the bottom part that had come loose, and then spent a bunch more time doing a (hopefully) much better job with much better duct tape.
Now I'm frantically scarfing a little dinner, a full hour after the time I meant to be on the road to Indianapolis, and I still have a few things to pack. So I'll stop this whinge and get back on the stick.
I just have to wonder what nonexistent cosmic force I have offended.