This is a Day in the Life type of story. It's also a CUPCAKE. I've tried to make myself write Cupcake before, but this was the first one that I thought actually worked. I think that may be because I didn't even attempt romance... Let me also just say that is was a long, cold weekend in Casa de Spiffytgm.

Anyway, the usual disclaimer goes here... Not mine, no money, blah, blah, blah. Let me know what you think, I love to hear from you!

I walked in the door on Saturday, a hot, sweaty, sticky mess. I even had the beginning of a big, ugly bruise under my right eye. There are days when I hate my job. Bob ran up to see if I had any food, but one whiff sent him running back to the couch. There was a game on TV, but Joe was nowhere to be seen. Maybe I can just slip up the stairs unnoticed and spare myself the lecture. Before I can take two steps, Joe yells from the kitchen, "Hot water heater's busted."

Crap. There goes my plan for a long, hot shower. I yell back, "Did you check the pilot light?" That's the extent of my knowledge of water heater repair.

"I have one of those newfangled tankless heaters. There is no pilot light." Joe walked out of the kitchen holding a sandwich and a beer. "What the hell happened to you?"

I ran my hand through my hair and instantly regretted it. "I don't want to discuss it. I'll just go over to my parents house and shower." I would go to my own apartment, but the last time I showed up unannounced, Grandma and her friends were playing strip poker. That's not something I ever want to see again.

Joe takes a swallow of his beer. "You can't go there. What will your mother say when she sees you like that? Don't forget that by the time you walk from the car to the house, half the Burg will see you and start to spread gossip."

I hate to admit it, but he's right. I really don't need to hear my mother lecture me about how I should get a job at the button factory. I know where I could go to take a hot, lecture free shower, but Joe and I are trying to make things work. I don't even consider mentioning Rangeman. I huff, "Fine," and march upstairs to take the fastest shower of my life.

The shower is so cold, it feels like tiny needles of ice are hitting my body. I cleaned up in record time. When I walked out of the bathroom, Joe was leaning against the wall. He walked over to me and pulled the top of my towel out to get a peek at the goods. He looked up at me with his bedroom eyes. Usually this gives me a warm feeling all over, but at the moment I'm frozen solid. "I'm feeling a little dirty right now, cupcake."

I tugged my towel back into place. "You should take a shower. That'll fix you right up." I marched into the bedroom to put some warm clothes on.

Over sandwiches and beer, I asked if Joe called a plumber. I was surprised at his answer. "It's not an emergency."

"The plumber doesn't consider a lack of hot water to be an emergency?"

"No, I don't consider a lack of hot water to be an emergency. Do you know how much a plumber charges for an emergency call on a weekend? You probably have to sign over your first child. At the rate we're going can we really afford to give one away?"

Oh no he did not just go there. Before I could tell him what I really thought, he apologized. I grudgingly forgave him. I called my friend Mary Lou, but she and her plumber husband Lenny had taken the kids to Disneyworld, and wouldn't be back for a week.

After the game, Joe started to get frisky again, but I didn't want to start something if I couldn't clean up afterwards. Joe clomped down to the basement muttering about fixing the damn thing himself. For a long time, there was no sound from the basement. I was starting to get worried when Joe yelled up for me to turn on the hot water. I ran to the sink and turned on the tap. By the time the sink was full, there were miniature icebergs floating on the surface. I yelled down to Joe that it was still cold. I could hear him cursing, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Sunday wasn't any better. Joe went downstairs twice to try to fix it, each time muttering about it just being a damn hot water heater. Each time, Joe came back upstairs in an even worse mood. "There isn't even a stupid error message on the damn thing. Just a flashing light. There's a big digital screen on the thing, you would think there would be some way for it to tell you what was wrong."

On Monday morning, I awoke to find a note by the coffee machine. "Cupcake, left early to take a shower at the station. I already walked and fed Bob. Call the plumber for me?"

I fixed my coffee and wandered downstairs. Before I called, I wanted to get the model number off the heater, and maybe take a quick peek at it. From what I could tell, it looked like a tankless water heater with a flashing light on the control panel. I picked up the owner's manual from where Joe left it on the top of the dryer and turned to the section for troubleshooting. There was about four pages of possible error codes and what they could mean. There was also a diagram of where the error codes were displayed on the control panel. I walked over and took a look at it again. Since there really was no error code displayed, I took a closer look at the flashing light. When I realized what was wrong, I thunked my head against the wall a couple of times, turned the power back on, and went upstairs to take a hot shower.