Well I’m happy to say that I remembered to mention the burned out light down in the garage to Jose, but only because he happened to be in our office talking to my friend Daniel when I got there this morning. Daniel had been showing Jose a picture of me holding a bikini-clad stand-in from ‘Savannah’ in my arms and they were both full of wise-ass comments in Spanish since they’re both natives of Mexico.
While Daniel is very proud of Spanish and chafes at the fact that I haven’t yet started listening to the Spanish language CD he gave me, Jose prefers luring me into saying dirty phrases (which can be embarrassing if you repeat those phrases whilst in an elevator full of ladies who work in the all-Spanish radio station upstairs). I’m fairly sure for awhile there that when I thought I was saying “Thank you, pretty ladies for holding the door open” I was in fact telling them “My beautiful bare-breasted poodle’s vagina is a holy biscuit.”
Needless to say that I haven’t repeated anything that Jose tells me until I run it past Daniel first. And I’m taking the stairs for awhile, just to let things with the radio station girls die down.
Anyway, the burned-out light.
Jose says that it can’t be fixed. He says that the lines are actually run through conduits that go behind the foundation walls and that there’s some kind of moisture problem. They would apparently have to run new conduit down to the light and it’s not currently in the repair budget.
I’m going to take a look tomorrow to see if I have any ideas.
