It pours. Literally.
This morning, I was sitting in the lounge room feeding Isaac. I hear a Chscshhhhh sound (say it out loud, it sounds better) and then the pump started to run. I dumped the baby and raced to the bathroom thinking please for the love of god don’t let that be what I think that is… fuck it. It was indeed what I feared.
The hot water cylinder had burst right at the bottom and hot water was rushing into the bathroom and the laundry pile. (Washing machine is in the bathroom. Please, don’t ask.)
Dodging the hot puddle, I quickly switched off the water pump at the power point as in the moment, I couldn’t remember how the fuck to turn off the water to the cylinder. I’ll be buggered if I was going to let all our precious water flow out through a hole in the cylinder.
Screeching for Nathan and swearing at the top of my lungs, I dumped some dirty towels in front of the cylinder and then stood back to swear some more. A very sleepy Nathan answered, obviously he couldn’t hear the get the fuck here now urgency in my voice.
‘What?!’
‘I NEED YOU! HERE!’
Stumble stumble grrrr groan mumble.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The fucking fuck of a hot fucking water cylinder burst.’
‘Oh. Fuck.’
Then, as Nathan used his working brain to turn off the water to the cylinder, I rang my Daddy. As you do. And then, all swearing aside, I rang a plumber.
‘My hot water cylinder burst, can you send someone?’
‘Uhm. We can have someone there for you first thing tomorrow morning.’
After a few hesitations (I wanted them there, RIGHT NOW. I wanted them to be able to teleport and magically fix the fucking hot water) I agreed and he started to ask me questions.
‘Is there room around the hot water cylinder to work?’
‘Uhm. Yes? I think so. Some things would need to be moved [like the sink and the laundry and maybe that cabinet…] but it’s nothing major and he could have easy access.’
‘Okay. Now, what is the plumbing that leads to the cylinder like?’
‘Uhm. Shoddy. Very very shoddy.’
Shoddy is not the word for it. I’d use fucked, but I’ve probably used my swear quota for the day.
‘We bought the house last year and the plumbing is shit. You’ll love it.’
‘Oh. [laughs] Okay then. Right. Now how big is the cylinder?’
‘It’s big? I don’t know! It’s been a bad week. It’s a big one. Big.’
‘But is it 160 litres? Or 240?’
I consulted with Nathan.
‘Partner says it’s 240. I just need it fixed. I have kids…’
Wooooooooooeeeeeee.
‘Right. Now where is the address?’
‘Address is [not given to the Internet]’
‘Oh. You know we charge travelling time, right?’
‘Yeah. I figured. Tell your boys to drive fast.’
‘Okay. Someone will be with you tomorrow.’
Click.
So. No hot water for me until it’s fixed. The floor underneath the cylinder is now fucked completely and even soggier than it was.
On the upside, while I’m going to be shelling out $1000+ for a plumber and a new cylinder, it’s likely that insurance will cover the cost of replacing the bathroom floor. If I jump through their hoops with one eye closed and my hands tied behind my back while chanting Iamagoodgoodcustomer over and over again.
And then I got my shit together, swore some more and headed down to the Funeral Home with Mum and David. My week has just been fucking awesome.
Nan died yesterday. I still feel numb and unreal and just a little fake. I was in a brain fog this morning, right up until our little mini disaster. I tell you what, there is nothing like a mini crisis to make you start thinking again.
Aside from the actual moment when she died, I haven’t cried yet. I don’t really feel like I need to yet. No doubt my tears are in the post and I will go on being fine up until the moment I am not fine. And when I’m suddenly not fine, I will be very very not fine all at once.
I haven’t actually cried in a long time now.
Oh and you know what makes things even more awesome? I found a lump in my breast a few days ago. A lump that isn’t normal for me. A lump that hasn’t gone away with feeding and massage. A REAL lump. A doctors appointment will be made, just as soon as I get through Nan’s funeral.
***
For anyone that knows us in real life, you can email me for details of her funeral. I’ve got everything right here [taps] in my pretty little head. OR, you can see the details in the paper tomorrow.
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