Before I regale you with tales of New Scotland, I’d like to tell you what I came home to…
I dumped my suitcase on the floor of my kitchen, since that’s where the laundry is. I started running the water and sorting the clothes into piles. I poured myself a glass of water. I added my clothes to the washer. I noticed that I’d spilled some water on the floor when I’d replaced the Britta pitcher.
I started working. I checked the laundry. I realized the floor was still wet. I wiped it up. I checked the laundry. I noticed water beading up on the grout between the tiles of my kitchen floor. I knelt down. I heard the tiles squish when I pressed them. I saw more water bead up on the grout.
I flipped my shit.
I’ll save you a play-by-play of the calls I made, notes I wrote and emails I sent, all trying to coordinate a plumber, update the property manager and check with neighbors for water damage. Let’s just agree: I was thorough, conscientious, and efficient. And I still managed to log a ten hour work day. I’m sure that was child’s play to Ann Romney. But Michelle knows what I’m talking about.
The plumber was awesome. He sounded like a good, rural guy who knows pipes and hates the city. We had a fifteen minute chat on the phone while I walked around, shutting off all the water valves in my place. He was stunned to learn I had a tankless water heater. “It’s electric?” he asked. I confirmed.
“Are your showers cold?” he continued. I told him they were warm.
“But you run out of hot water, right?” he asked. I told him I did not. And that I actually had the larger model, which meant TWO people could shower simultaneously in my bathrooms and not run out of water.
“Well, I’ll be!” he exclaimed. “This I gotta see. I’ve only seen the gas ones, and all I hear are complaints.” He paused. “Say – is your place fancy?”
I hope he drives this.
I assured him it was not. “My place is SMALL. The only way to squeeze an extra closet out of it was by moving to a tankless heater, I explained.
In any case, by the time we hung up, he’d agreed to come to my place first thing in the morning. He claims it’s to help end my leak, but really, I know it’s so he can look at the tankless heater. Whatever it takes.
So tonight, I’m sitting here, legs crossed, wishing I could flush my toilet. I have a Britta filter of water I’ll use to brush my teeth.
And a pile of dirty clothes on the floor reminding me what an awesome vacation I had.
pithypants 
