A Touch of Gas

Two weeks ago I gave Son a lift to the airport on his way out to California to be with Girlfriend’s family for Passover.  Before we left his house, he took me down to the basement to show me the great paint job he did.  On reaching the bottom step I said what I always say in Son’s basement:  “Do you smell gas in here?”  Son responded with his usual answer, “No, I don’t and no one else does.  You’re the only one who ever smells gas.”  I said, “Okay, great paint job, just do me a favor and call the gas company when you get home so they can check it out.  Then I promise I will never mention it again.”  He said will do.

Son and Girlfriend returned earlier this week, and the next afternoon my cell phone rang as I sat in a local pizzeria.

SON:  Hi, where are you right now?

OSV:  I’m at Sal’s having a slice.  Why?

SON:  I need you to go over to my house immediately.  I called the gas company like you asked me to and they said if no one’s home when they get there they’re going to break the door down.

OSV:  WHAT?!  Where are you?

SON:  I’m at work.  I called them to make an appointment, but as soon as I said there may be a gas smell they said it was an emergency.  It’ll take me a half hour to get home and they’ll be there in twenty minutes.

OSV:  Wait!  I don’t have your house key with me.

SON:  Just stand in front so they don’t destroy my door.  The gas company is out of control.

OSV:  I feel terrible.  I should have mentioned you need to be home when you call.

SON:  I hate to rush you but are you finished eating?

I tossed the crust in the trash and ran out the door with Sal calling after me asking if everything was okay.  I was already gone.

The National Grid truck pulled up a few minutes after I arrived and the service guy rolled down his window when he saw me.

OSV:  Hi.  This is not an emergency.  I’m the homeowner’s mother and I’m the one who suggested he call.  No one else besides me ever smells gas in his basement, so he only called because I asked him to.  Please don’t break the door down.

The service guy looked aggravated.  “Is that what they told your son?  I hate when they do that.  Customer service gets callers so riled up they’re in a state of panic when we get here.  I’ve never had to break a door down, ever.  Although I’m sure your son has a gas leak.”

OSV:  What?  Why would you say that?

GASMAN:  Because 90% of the time it’s the woman in a house who smells gas.  The husband always stands behind her doing that cuckoo thing, you know, telling me she’s crazy.  Almost every time the wife is right.  Guys never smell gas.  I guarantee you I’ll be finding a leak.

OSV:  There’s still that 10% chance I’m wrong.

GASMAN:  Nope.  As soon as you said you’re his mother it went up to 100%.  Mothers you can take to the bank.

Damn if we both weren’t right.

Daughter’s Featured Fotos don’t presume to Preach

urban zoo

urban zoo

andy warhol statue in union square

andy warhol statue in union square



no judgment

no judgment

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