(This is where the great Tinkerty Tonk cell phone debacle comes in, which I'd explain but it's long, boring and reveals what a patsy I am, so I'll skip it.)
Anyway, I was hung up on, twice--when I thought I was being put on hold. The third phone call wasn't pretty. There was yelling, there was cursing, there was spittle. Undoubtedly, since my "call may be taped for quality assurance purposes," some enterprising Comcast employee has saved it for a greatest hits tape of the most deranged customers ever; they'll play it at the Christmas party for laughs. Among other things that occurred, I was told I couldn't cancel my service until I'd returned all their equipment.
Still, I prevailed, in a manner of speaking. I got a manager. I got put on hold for 20 more minutes while she called the dispatch people. We held a conference call with a third party. I was guaranteed a service appointment for tonight.
In head-gasket news, I have a cracked cylinder. (Conversation later with my mother: Me--"What's a cylinder?" My mother--"A three-dimensional figure with two parallel bases that are congruent circles." Is it any wonder I'm insane?) This I found out after I called the head-gasket people for an update. It was one of those conversations where they assume you know what they're talking about:
"We were able to a cylinder from the machine shop so we're still on track to get it done by Friday."
Yeah, the cylinder was cracked.
How much is this going to cost?
And you were gonna tell me, when?