Ten day ago, I was taking a shower when I noticed that there was no hot water. I didn't think much of it, other than I should probably check out the waterheater. I walked into the closet, and noticed that the carpet was soaking wet. I looked up, thinking that we must have a ceiling leak from all the rain the week before. Somehow, 2 + 2 was not equaling 4 in this equation, and I didn't think the two things were connected.
Later, I was in the laundry room, and thought I heard water running inside our garage, so I went out to investigate. What I found was a river running through our garage, winding its way through a canyon of boxes, old furniture, and debris collected over the twelve years we've lived in the house. The water was traveling through the garage and out onto the driveway. I dug my way through the clutter in the garage to the mouth of the river: our decrepit, antique waterheater. I felt like Lewis & Clark forging their way to the Missouri River headwaters.
Frank was out of town, so I called a plumber, and after three tries, finally hit upon one with an emergency answering service. I really think that Joe the Plumber should have stayed in his line of work and gotten a license. People need plumbers. Pundits? Not so much. I've never heard anyone say, "If I don't see George Will or Arianna Huffington right this minute, I will certainly keel over dead." They might, however, say, "There's a river running through my garage, and if I don't find a plumber soon, I may need a sailboat to get out of the house."
While waiting for the plumber to call back, I went next door to the neighbor's house, to see if they might help me find the water shut-off valve. The neighbor was home, and told me that he was planning to come over to find out if our floor was wet, since their dining room carpet was mysteriously squishy. Their house shares a wall with our garage, and the waterheater was leaking through the adjoining wall and under their carpet. He came over, and looked at the water heater, and about that time, the plumber called.
Plumber: Hi, this is Aaron from Dave's Custom Plumbing. How can we help you?
Me: Well, there's a river running through my garage. I think it's the water heater.
Plumber: OK. I can send someone out today, in about 2 hours.
Me: Can you tell me how to turn the water off? I keep turning this knob by the waterheater, but nothing happens, and the water keeps flowing out.
Plumber: That's the gas, ma'am. Are you looking at the waterheater right now?
Me: Yes
Plumber: Look up.
Me: (looking up) What exactly am I looking for?
Plumber: Something that looks like a water faucet knob.
Me: Oh, that green thing.
Plumber: Turn it off there.
Me: I can't possibly reach that.
Plumber: Do you have a ladder?
Me: No, but I have a neighbor. He might be able to reach that.
Plumber: ... (can hear his eyes rolling over the phone)
Me: The neighbor climbed up and got it turned off! Thanks!
I told Aaron the Plumber to send someone over. Since the flood waters had subsided, I figured I could wait two hours. As promised, two hours later, a very nice fellow from Dave's Custom Plumbing came by and diagnosed it as a waterheater tank implosion. The tank just basically fell apart after years of use. He said they could come back the next day and install one if we wanted, and quoted a price that equaled about a year's salary in most parts of Central Asia. Again, Joe the Plumber, bad career move on the punditry.
This little waterheater fiasco has turned into 10 days of being without hot water in our house. The first few days, we made do with sponge baths and heating up water in the microwave to rinse our hair. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I remembered working with someone years ago who had a significant body odor problem, and having numerous conversations with coworkers that went like this,
"You need to say something to him. I can't take the smell any longer. I feel faint whenever he walks by my desk."
"Nu-uh! You tell him!"
"No way. You're his boss."
"Rock, paper, scissors?"
Fearing that my coworkers were having similar conversations about me, I insisted we move to a hotel until we got the walls and the waterheater fixed so we could take showers. I figured it take about 3 or 4 days and we'd have a new waterheater. No such luck.
The wall repair contractors from ServPro came out the same night and did an assessment. The next day, they were back with gigantic blowers and dehumidifiers to try to dry out the walls and the carpet. We weren't allowed to open the doors in the bedroom so that it would dry faster. It made the bedroom hot & stuffy, and sounded like we were living in a wind tunnel. Frank is used to sleeping on airplanes, so it didn't bother him. I ended up on the couch, because I couldn't fall asleep with all the noise.
So, for the past week, we've been fighting with various insurance adjusters, from our contents policy, our homeowner's association, and our neighbor's insurance company, trying to figure out what is covered and who is going to cover it. We've been to three different hotels, and eaten in restaurants or had take-out every night, but at least we are clean. I'll have to write up some reviews of the hotels we've stayed in, in case anyone is interested in various accommodations in Palo Alto. So far, my favorite has been the Sheraton, where the manager, after hearing our tale of water woe, comped us three breakfast buffet tickets.
This vagabond life wears thin after a while, even when breakfast is included. I seriously considered taking up recreational drinking until our house is fixed. I have decided against it for now, since I'm pretty sure that insurance won't cover rehab as part of our claim.
