Plumbing New Depths

Where's the caulk when you need it?

About two weeks ago my water heater crapped out. Not such a huge deal, right? Call a plumber, have him check the element first and if it's worse than that you pony up for a new one. Not quite that simple, I'm afraid. That approach is for people who have water heaters they can "see." Although we know where ours "is," we can't "see" it. I was able to reach in and touch it (I even fiddled with it enough to figure out that 220 volts is enough electricity to change your mind about do-it-yourself home repair). My clinched-up ass was airborne. I must say, I prefer to make my wife laugh with a well-timed one-liner, than by sailing through the kitchen sideways. For about an hour, if you put your ear to my mouth you could hear the Dodgers game, and for two days if I happened to fart, the garage door would open. We got it on video.

Regardless how fast you can restore hot water to your home, you can pretty much count on at least a few Spartan experiences in the shower. Hell, I figured we'd be fine. The Boneman clan comes from hearty, handcart stock. Sadly it would take only a day to know in our hearts that as far as traversing prairie and plain might be concerned - we're more SkyWest stock. And at the risk of being labeled 21st century candy-asses – I'm just gonna say it - cold showers suck for the birds. Luckily we have access to a pool, so while the fam waited me to dismantled the kitchen, they took care our hygienic needs at the pool. Strangely as much as we love to swim there and frequently do, showering there proved to be more than we were willing to face on a daily basis. The thing is I'm not exactly a "shower freak." I get one in pretty much every day, but I work at home, have no social life to speak of and if it becomes absolutely necessary that I leave the house, I can have a quick swish in the sink to wash my face and straighten my beard in case I slept it crooked, slap on a hat - Costco here we come. As for my girls, as long as I keep them air-conditioned they can go a surprising number of days before they turn.

You're probably wondering why all this should take so long. First of all, my wife doesn't believe in paying money for any type of service. She's a hair dresser and firmly believes that cars, boats and houses are the only things that can't be acquired by trading-out hair services. "Okay" I say, "what about the guy I got last time?" Oh hell no. Not only is he "shall we say" no longer in need of hair-services, but by all reports this guy is most unscrupulous tool who ever whipped out his caulk. Actually, in my estimation, he hooked us up pretty square, but my brother in-law is in the contractor game and he claims I'm the only person he knows of who hasn't taken a bath courtesy of this guys' handy work. I guess he acquired his shady rep by charging a hapless elderly couple something like $2,400 just to flip the reset button on their Rheem. I guess he must have carried in some big tools and banged around making noise for some time and then y'know Rheemed ‘em but good. I don't quite know whether to credit any of this or not, but you hate to see folks get hoodwinked out of ignorance – it could have just as easily have been me. Goodness - you get a reputable plumber, the same service is what, a little over a grand. Even more ironic is their grandson is a plumber who lives out of state, but when he came to visit he was just livid about the whole thing, threatening to call the Better Business Bureau and so on. Turns out he'd've done it for $500.

The one positive thing to come of the whole goofy saga is that evidently we showed up at church fragrant enough to chase off the crazy opera lady. It just goes to show you never know where a blessing might pop up. We pretty much always sit on the same bench and crazy opera lady always sits right behind us. There's really no way to convey what crazy opera lady can do to a hymn or how impossible it is not to come down with the most insane and exhausting case of the church giggles when she lets go. I mean I'm sure when she was younger and could still hear herself she was admired for her fine singing voice. Sadly, as her hearing has waned, she struggles mightily with intonation; but the good Lord knows it hasn't in any way effected her zeal. You know how funny people sometimes talk when they're listening to loud music on headphones? "WHAT? – ARE - WHAT? ARE YOU TALKING TO ME?" I hate to make fun of the woman - but that's kind of what this is like. I really do admire her spunk, it's just that I have the worst time teaching my girls the virtues of respect and reverence when we're all just convulsing helplessly. Every week: The Hymn books shaking in front of our red faces – every muscle strained to exhaustion, just trying to hang . . in . . there - literally sick from the tension and lack of oxygen – the Bishopric - a DiVinci-like tableau of wrath, horror – in their eyes we're only a notch above the Manson family.

Hopefully we'll be able to shower by next Sunday. We totally missed the crazy opera lady.