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The leak in my garage continues unabated, through three plumbers who can’t seem to figure out what the problem is, when I keep telling them that the leak isn’t coming from my condo, it’s only ending up in my condo. They run my showers and flush my toilets, and say, nope, no leak here. And leave.

If that were the only leakage, though, it might be more bearable. I think we’re moving up on the forty-days-and-forty-nights mark here in SoCal, or maybe it just seems like it’s got to be divine wrath falling from the sky. What’s clear is that I don’t think I’ve actually been fully dry in over a week. The basement of our office building has flooded repeatedly, and my classroom — in that basement — is now dank and cold. Enough. Or, in case English just isn’t carrying enough weight with the divine these days: Basta. Ca suffit.

On a happier note, though, I’ve gotten my wi-fi all wi’d and fi’d, and so am able to work from my second-floor-landing office nook now. I’m still having to negotiate the security issue, though; my after-market original Airport card and my new router simply can’t get together on either WEP or WPA. So right now I’m using MAC address control to prevent random folks from glomming onto my bandwidth, but my packets are nonetheless still leaking out all over the neighborhood. Of course, my packets are largely dull, so it’s probably not an issue, but I’m just saying.

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