It’s unclear who said those immortal words, but the meaning is crystal clear. (I always thought it was Leo Durocher or Yogi Berra, but I wasn’t even close.) Today tried hard to be one of those days.
We awoke to the sound of running water. That’s special and wonderful if you happen to live near a trickling brook or a rippling river, but when the sound comes from water running somewhere in the walls and under the house it’s a little bit more stressful. I dragged my butt out of bed and into some clothes (for which the neighbors are no doubt eternally grateful), stuck my head into the itty-bitty, teeny-tiny access hatch to the crawl space under the house, where I could see the water running and pooling and and generally making a mess. I left the water on long enough to take a quick shower, then I shut off it off at the meter and called the plumbers.
With no water in the house, I tried to get through my other tasks for the day, before I ran into my next crisis:
I’m not dying of some horrible toxic reaction between the dissolved food dye and the chocolate, so I guess that I “chose wisely.” (Remind me some time to tell the family story that makes this so funny for my kids.)
As long as the water was off, there was another plumbing issue that I had put off for a while. I needed the water shut off to do it and it seemed to be a pain in the ass to shut off the water to the whole house for one little repair. But now that the water was off anyway and the shower in question was still disassembled. The repair took only a few minutes and was done, easy as pie.
The plumbers didn’t get here until after 6:00 PM, which they had told me when I called early this morning, so it wasn’t like I was stressing too much over the possibility of going into the weekend without water. It was interesting to see these guys getting through that little access hatch to work under the house and then start hacking and soldering. I’ve been down under there when I’ve run cable for phones and television and internet:
(Me ten years ago after coming out from under the house – sorry Texas!)
…it’s not my favorite place, even though I’m not particularly claustrophobic. You need to be a contortionist, there are spots where it’s pretty tight, it’s filthy, it’s hard to move around, and every now and then you do wonder just how the fire department is going to get you out if you get stuck.
They were pros and got the job done. I turned the water back on, they tested their repairs to check for leaks, no worries. But what’s that noise from the half-bath at the other end of the house?
The new cartridge was pretty well smashed to pieces (I have no idea how it broke that badly without shattering the glass shower enclosure that it shot into) but my only lucky break of the day was that I had saved the broken cartridge that I had taken out instead of trashing it. It doesn’t work as a shower cartridge, but it works great as a specialized plug in that valve so that we could turn the water back on.
Not the way I had planned on spending Friday. Perhaps I should have stood in bed. On the other hand, if I had, the bed might be floating away and my yard might look like that mess up on Sunset Boulevard last week, so maybe it all worked out for the better anyway.











