Me: "Who has the best seat in the house, me or daddy?"

Adam: "Well, Daddy's is nice, but yours is best. Your's is squishier."

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Feelin' Hot, Hot... HOT! (the rest of the story)

(To read the beginning of this story, please scroll down to the previous post)

On Saturday morning Guy was already out of bed and dressed when I got home from an early meeting.  Guy, thankfully, has a one day turn-around on illness, and was a full 80% improved, leaving only 20% zombie.  I began boiling water to wash the dishes, which were pretty backed up.  With flu in the house, cold water wasn't going to cut it.  I kept the pots and kettles going so that the little kids could all get baths.  I wasn't sure the heater installation would go off without a hitch, and I did not want to smell my kids all through church the next day.  I know in the wild that's how mothers identify their young. Ew. Just ew.

Oh, ...Eleven.

That's the answer to how many  pots and kettles it took for a jumbo batch of dirty dishes and 4 dirty kids.  Wow, this story has a lot of math in it.  I told everyone we would do pioneer style baths, and that the nicest child would get the first bath. The naughtiest would get the dirt-soup last bath. Apparently, says they, they believe they all tied for first in this niceness event.

As Guy and Don worked away at the water heater, I decided to finally fix the soap tray in the dishwasher.  The dishes had been coming out dirty lately.  Guy came in and told me that he noted the spray arm wasn't turning.  I decided to start there because it seemed like a simple fix to unplug the spray arm.  Only very soon it was obvious the spray arm was fine.  Don poked his head in and within moments diagnosed the problem.  The pump was dead.  Oh.  Yay.

I shut the dish washer and put my tools away.

Guy and Don yanked the old water heater out of the closet.

The kitchen sink began abruptly leaking a steady stream.   I turned on the kitchen sink and like a TV sitcom, water began shooting out of a pipe in the water heater closet all over the floor.  Also like the sitcom, I kept forgetting and turning it on again and again.  Oopsies.

They finally got the new water heater in.

As they filled it up there was a tremendous swooshing and splattering sound.  Don began gasping and laughing as he battled the water spraying from the last open pipe, like a scene in a B movie.  He was soaked to his waist in frigid water, but he had done it!  The metal monster was installed.  Finally.

As I tidied up the kitchen, the menfolk began putting away tools and such.  I was amazed that only a short time later, perhaps 15 minutes, there was warm water coming out of the faucet!  "Waaahooo! There is warm water already!" I exclaimed.  It felt so good to know we had hot water again.  That feeling lasted about 45 glorious little seconds.

I carried a bowl of soup for Don to the microwave.  I stuck it in, pressed start, and heard a pop as I watched the digital display go blank.  I pushed random buttons in disbelief, pushing start over and over like the button of a slow elevator.  Nothing.

It was dead.

Add it to the list. Guy walked out into the garage last week and as he flipped on the light, the 8 foot florescent bulb burned out in a glorious, firey display complete with sparks and orange flames.  The lawn mower died. The fridge is making a clunking sound. 

What's a little ol' dead microwave?  Pshaw! Das' nuthin. 
It has been a week since we got hot water again.  I really appreciate it, the way I appreciate warm socks in winter and ice in summer, and, in a house full of puberty, deodorant.  Hot water is such a comfort.  I told Don today that it is almost like the water is better somehow, more special than before.  Like when you think you're about to drink a glassfull from the tap and it turns out to be Sprite.

We are washing dishes by hand now, because while a dishwasher is nice, it is not a need.  Call it life-skills training for my kidlets.  Ellie said "We NEED a new dishwasher!"  Guy said, "No we don't!  We have five."

Also, my glassware is quite sparkly now.  Move over Jet Dry, make room for the spot removing power of a teen with a scrubbie.

The kids are missing the microwave for their burritos.  I have accidentally put something in and idly pushed a button before remembering we are stove people now. 

 The garage still has one bulb left, so we are good till that one goes.  Besides, who needs to see in a garage?  My kids just open the door and toss stuff in, anyway.  It would be like lighting the inside of a garbage can to them. 

But none of those things are real needs.

In fact, all this has made me ponder on how cushy life in our remote-controlled, hands-free, automatic-windowed world truly is.  I find myself thinking more about our many comforts, and I want to become more aware of other little luxuries I have been taking for granted, hopefully before I need to lose them to realize what blessings they are.

Now for one hot, mosquito-free shower. I'm livin' large. 

No comments: