Cursed.
The plumber came in yesterday to have a look at the tank, while we were both out.
I had to take The Husband to work because he broke his car in the snow on Friday, and when we got home ... it was leaking again. Couldn't work out why, couldn't work out how to stop it, and couldn't get hold of the plumber. So we put a note through his door and waited for him to get in touch, trying to ignore the loud dripping sounds and taking it in turns to empty the bucket, which was filling up at the rate of about 4 litres an hour.
The plumber finally arrived and couldn't work out where the water was coming from either, but finally managed to sort it out and get it stopped by about quarter to nine. At which point we heaved sighs of relief and finally had something to eat (and some painkillers for our stress headaches).
This morning The Husband had custody of The Working Car so that he could go to a thesis preparation day for his Masters. We had to leave the house at 7.40 at the latest so that he could drop me at uni on the way. At 7.39 we went out to The Working Car and discovered that it was in fact The Car With The Flat Tyre.
This could be seen as The Third Thing in the Bad Things Come In Threes saying. Or it could be a sign from above. Or below. Maybe I should get an exorcist in, and a pagan cleanser (or whatever they're called), and maybe a witch doctor. Does anyone know a witch doctor?