Friday morning I woke up and wondered, "What's that noise? It sounds like running water." I checked both bathrooms before I realized that, no, it wasn't a toilet with an attitude, but something downstairs. When I got down there, I found the utility closet awash with the water that was cascading out the bottom of the water heater.
The floor of the utility closet is about a half inch below the living room floor, so no major damage and the water just leaked out through the subflooring into the foot or so of space below the house. I assume. It had to go somewhere and down was the logical place. Of course, gravity is only a theory. I then discovered that the cutoff valve to the water heater was old and cruddy and didn't shut off the water all the way. On the bright side, the gas valve worked correctly and damp is more easily rectified that explosions any day.
Mop! Bucket! Telephone! "Oz, the bottom fell out of the water heater!" I also called the plumbing guys. "Help! The bottom fell out of my water heater!" I love Southern plumbers. If you sound female and slightly hysterical, they drawl, "Well, ma'am, don't you worry—" and ride to the rescue all chivalrous. Tommy was here in under an hour.
But the fun didn't stop there. Water heater removal, replacement, and cleanup took over three hours, during which I had to pack up for our trip to Northern Virginia. I'm glad I hadn't planned on getting any translation done that morning anyway. We actually got on the road on time and up to the Dulles Hilton where we were meeting the Witchmama and her clan for a short visit before their return to Tokyo Saturday morning.
Our afternoon and evening saw more drama. Wandering through the hotel with a Cosmo (her first ever), Witchmama did her Carrie Bradshaw impression. Siegfried and Roy joined us all for dinner, but got lost in the hotel first and had to leave voice mails pleading for rescue: "Where are you?" Little children scaled Oz, who is a baby magnet. Oz and I split a pint of Guinness, with assistance from the five-year-old who, whenever I took a sip, would take the glass from me, carry it to Oz, and say, "Okay, drink." At dinner, the toddler took a header off a dining room chair because accidents happen, and mass confusion ensued. Another guest called an ambulance on his Blackberry, an ambulance and fire truck both came to the hotel to check the toddler for head injuries. We learned that you don't have to wake up someone every two hours to make sure they aren't in a coma (it will just make them cranky).
The toddler is fine.
The rest of us survived. We actually had a nice dinner once we all calmed down.
When we took our leave, my car refused to shift out of Park. It's still refusing, so I now have to press the magic shiftlock override button to get the car going. I think the shiftlock solenoid needs to be replaced. What great timing! (See above, where I had to purchase a new water heater.)
Saturday and Sunday with Siegfried and Roy and the pugs were relatively undramatic. We ate Middle Eastern pastries, made almost an entire meal of crackers and toppings: cheese, fruit preserves, hot mango chutney, and hot lime pickle. With sassafras root beer. The boys took us house hunting so we could work on our sticker shock, because your $300K gets you a stinky, damp basement apartment in Vienna. No Alps either.
Sunday night, we get back in town. The house smells musty from the damp in the utility closet. I find email from a client: "Where's that job we assigned you? That was due last week?" That they neglected to assign me, but I can squeeze it in this week.
Monday: Uneventful. We have beer and onion rings. House still rather musty.
Today, Oz had surgery on one of the joints in his foot. He had to check in to the hospital at 6:00 a.m. and I spent the morning in the waiting room, working on that surprise translation job. He now has a very dramatic Borg foot with a metal distractor sticking out of his big toe.
I wonder what will happen tomorrow.
727 words | July 12, 2005 06:54 PM | Real true storyBest wishes for Oz's recovery, of course. Not being familiar with orthopedic terminology, I'm having some fun trying to imagine what a "metal distractor" is, who or what it's supposed to distract, and why you would stick it into the foot of someone who'd just had surgery.
Posted by: Jonathan Dresner at July 13, 2005 07:01 PMA distractor is sort of like a brace that is installed directly on your bones. This picture shows a fancy one. Oz's is a few inches long and is installed on a joint in his foot. It's supposed to keep the joint open while it heals up. The nurse wrapped his foot in so much gauze that we can't see it, which is just as well because the sight of metal sticking out of one's body is really disturbing. The doctor will remove it in about six weeks.
I'll pass on your wishes. He's doing fine right now, lying around like a sultan and taking his pain meds.
Posted by: Nee-chama at July 13, 2005 07:23 PMI figured it was something like that. Six weeks.... ugh. Just enough time to get used to it, I guess.
Posted by: Jonathan Dresner at July 14, 2005 03:46 AM