Monday, December 01, 2014

Cold showers

Hearing an eighty gallon water heater being drained, while knowing that the water is turned off, can be a very uncomfortable thing. Especially for a coffee drinker.

Sigh.

The water heater stopped heating sometime in the wee hours of the night on Saturday. There wasn't any water leakage, just a dead heater. It made no sense to pay a plumber an emergency, Sunday rate, so I waited until to day to call.

It made for a very uncomfortable hair washing this morning. Note that I'd already figured I could go downstairs and wash my hair in the kitchen sink, with water warmed in the microwave, but was too lazy to do so. Instead, I jumped in the shower. How bad could it be? Water on just enough to wet the hair, then off whilst shampooing. Water back on to rinse as quickly as possible.

Is it possible to get hypothermia after a 30 second shower?

When the appraisal was done three years ago, the appraiser said the water heater was somewhere between eight and ten years old. I put it on my list of things to eventually replace (with a smaller, more efficient unit). It was due to be replaced this spring.

Sigh.

The good news is that I'd already chosen a plumber. A friend from church has long been in the business (and expanded to HVAC and sewer & water). I'd worked in the kids' club with the owner for years - he's a good guy, and I trust him.

The truck delivering the new unit is a pick up, so they can come in the underground and not have to haul the heater through the living room and down the stairs. The price differential between the 40 gallon and the 50 gallon is only thirty bucks, so I'm taking the slightly larger one. Given the amount of energy needed to keep 50 gallons warm versus the 80 gallon behemoth, I'm anticipating some savings on the electric bill.

This wasn't at all what I planned to do this month, and it most likely kills the plan to finally replace the twin bed set with a full. At the rate I'm going, I may be sleeping in that bed (I was moved to it when my sister was born - I was three years old) until I die or am moved to the funny farm.

But at least after I stretch my way out of the tiny bed, I can ease my muscles with a nice, long, hot shower.


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