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.
Please click here to like my blog on the Top Mommy Blogs site! All it does is get me more readers…and more readers means more love…it’s nothing financial. (Although, maybe I should look into that, because hot water.)