Irony.

It’s impossible to write this stuff.

Y’all remember my little tangle with Con Edison, my gas and electric provider? Last Friday I finally got a call from the plumber, saying that the meter move finally hit the computers and was signed off by the city. At long last! I called Con Edison immediately. “Please provide me with a new meter so I can have a gas stove again.” Miracle of miracle’s the guy at Con Edison called me back Monday morning! “Not a problem”, he say’s. “I’ll stop by today to check out the work.” CHECK OUT THE WORK!!? All the alarm bells went off and I thought, oh, no, here we go again. Long story short, he showed up and, aside from telling me to get the plumber back to hook up the (old) stove, he seemed to think everything was okay and someone would be in contact to bring over the new meter. Thank you Jesus! When he left I bought a flex line at the local hardware store and hooked up the stove. Call a plumber? Please.

And now for something completely different. I served my first day of Jury duty today. I was called into a Voir dire for a civil case. Apparently an elderly lady tripped and broke her foot and was suing…wait for it…Con Ed. They seated a jury of six but were looking for two alternates. When they finally got to me the lawyer for Con Ed, (named John Fox, I kid you not) asked if I had any feelings against Con Edison. When I was done with him he was shaking his head and scratching my name off the list of potential jurors as fast as he could. I told him that other than this little Con Ed kerfuffle I was a reasonable guy. We parted smiling, as only two New Yorkers can, feeling deep in our bones that wonderful sense of irony that courses through our beloved city like rich veins of gold.