Cold Water Rocket Science

I didn’t finish college. Well of course I never really began. Which explains my sentence structure and punctuation. I just have a few courses on the books in between thinking about it, and knowing it wasn’t going to be. So I didn’t take a course in plumbing. I never lettered in electrical maintenance, or for that matter non-electrical maintenance. And I didn’t go to trade school. Well, wait, that’s a lie. Yes, I did, and we did use plumbing and electricity. But it was Beauty College so it was to shampoo, rinse, dry, and style hair. That doesn’t count.

So, much to my delight Tuesday night upon washing my dishes – remember wash dishes, shampoo hair (some things just never leave you) - I discovered that the water heater was not creating that nectar of life, commonly known as hot water. Tuesday night, 11:30pm, is not a time I want to come to the devastating realization that I will have to stick my head in cold water at 7am the next morning to wake up. It means that I will not get a moment of sleep, for trying to figure a way out of the dilemma and Ducky isn’t at home, so I can’t foist the responsibility onto his shoulders. Of course he takes his shower at night so, drats anyway.

I run out and flip the breaker just to make sure that wasn’t the problem. It wasn’t. I put my ear to the water tank to listen to the inner workings, I don’t know maybe I was listening for internal bowel gurgles or something. No. Nothing. Nada. Bada bing.

Wednesday morning came far to early. I crossed my fingers hoping against hope as I ran water from the hot water tap. Nope still broke. A morning ritual, that must be followed by at least a pot of aromatic, dark roast coffee. To have only one gives an appearance of life, but it is only an image. To even contemplate plunging my body into cold water, “Uh huh honey. It ain’t happenin’.” Gritting my teeth I shampooed my hair in water so cold I know it came straight off the glaciers of Antarctica, took a spit bath, and went to work.

Now I rarely take lunch, but I was determined to have the parts Ducky would need to repair the problem. I bought not one, but two elements, and a thermostat. But something the handyman told me as he rung up my thermostat, made me curious as I drove home. So with screw driver in hand I went into the garage and removed the cover to make sure I’d bought the right part. No it didn’t look right at all, the one on the water heater had a red reset button that clicked when I pushed it.

Any smart girl knows this is both a good thing and a bad thing. The bad thing is that I just wasted the first lunch break I’d taken in easily three weeks to run down parts I did not need. But the really good thing was calling up Ducky and telling him I FIXED THE FRIGGIN’ WATER HEATER MYSELF! That always burns him.

Way Kewl!