"We're going to have to shut it down..."

Why is it that "routine maintenance" pretty much always turns into something major? Friday, Bobby the HVAC guy was supposed to do some sort of cheap fix to our unit. An hour later, I was looking at a cracked heat exchanger and an $1100 bill. Oh, and the best part? When he said, "I'm real sorry, ma'am, but I can't turn this back on until it's fixed." Really? CAN'T? Or won't? I mean, I think you could also pull up your pants so your ass crack is not showing, but clearly, you are choosing not to. Oh, and yes, please charge me $1100 so that you may come back on Monday, or perhaps Tuesday, and finally fix my heat. Did I mention that it was supposed to be 28 degrees that night? And that the baby has a cold? So, what did I do? Although I really wanted to be a bitch and put up a fight,I chickened out, acted all nice and sweet, authorized the repair, and went out with the husband to see the Black Eyed Peas that night. A couple of giant concert beers helped to alleviate the pain of the pricey repair. And the cold night. And I also kept talking about how I think Fergie seems to have a really fun life. So, now it's Monday, and I'm about to spend the third night in a row at my parents' house, 70 miles from my own abode. Luckily, I heart my parents, and they heart us, too. The husband remains at our cold house, and I hope to return there tomorrow, when warmth is restored. Stay tuned. While the love is strong between the parents and me, it's time to get back home. Pronto.