So a part of my hot water heater blew out and hot water was
spraying all over my basement for, oh, I dunno, probably at least a full
day. The tip-off was coming home from
work to my smoke detectors blaring in unison and being unable to find any sign
of smoke…until I opened the cellar door and was smacked in the face by cloying
musty moisture. The steam had set off
the smoke detector (at the top of the stairs) and I had no choice but to enter
the dungeon (I really only go down there to pull bottles of wine from the cases
to bring upstairs) and slog across a soaked carpet to the utility room to see
inches of water on the floor and a fountain of water spewing out of the top of
the tank…suffice it to say, I stopped dead in my tracks and started saying, “No. No. NO.
NOOOOO. OH HELL NO!” in
increasing volume. Now, I grew up with
an incredibly handy father, an equally handy step-father, and a grandfather who
was a building contractor. My ex-husband
engineers power plants for nuclear-powered aircraft carriers, so he was pretty
good at wiring and plumbing. When things
went wrong, we just used in-house skilled labor. Incidentally, I’m pretty handy. My wife is pretty handy. You can pretty much build a house from
watching a series of two-minute YouTube videos.
But this hot water heater is…wait for it…wait for it…hooked up to
NATURAL GAS. That requires actual
licensed professionals…and, well, my grandfather has long since passed, so it
involves calling actual strangers to come into my house. I’m not really good at that. The electric dog fence we got about eight
years ago is really the only time I ever hired anyone to do anything.
So after a day and a half without hot water (don’t get
grossed out, we shower at my mom’s house), I found someone reliable to come in
to give me the scoop. Here’s what I
heard:
“Prepare to sell a kidney.
$$$. We don’t walk across Lego,
even with work boots on. OSHA. Move the cases* of wine out of our way so we
can get to the basement access.
Seriously, I’ve never seen that much wrapping paper before. How many Rubbermaid totes of K’Nex does one
family need? That’s a lot of books. Guitar Hero?
Really?”
That’s what I heard. I believe the guy was actually telling me
about systems and prices and energy…but all I could hear in my mind amounted
to, basically, “What a sh!thole. You
need to do something about this basement, Di.”
What better than a hot, moist, swamp for my holiday weekend
destination. Right?
Anyway, all that is why I’m not posting about the first
photo shoot this morning. I’ve got hot
water on the brain. I’m expecting the
email with the estimates this morning, and we will choose our magic new hot
water system and live happily – albeit destitute – ever after.
Not sure if I’ll post this weekend…but I promise the first
photo shoot will appear here soon. My
daughter has a go-see and an audition this afternoon, so our super-nanny will
run her around the city. I’ll report
back on the outcome.
*Trader Joes does not sell wine in CT since CT’s liquor laws
are so archaic. I rely on family to
import my three-buck-Chuck from out of state.
Cases are just…efficient.
Next time: maybe
modeling; maybe hot water.
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because hot water.)
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