Part 2

Welcome back.

So the water heater’s leaking and we’ve returned home after an unsuccessful search for a replacement. Now comes the time I’ve dreaded. Time to take matters into my own hands and attempt to turn the sucker off myself. While it’s true I have no handyman skills I am capable of reading, so I consult my Home Repair Guide that I bought when we moved in. It seems simple enough.
1) Shut off the gas by closing the valve.
2) Shut off the water valve above the unit.
3) Connect a hose to the beast and drain it.
4) Kick back and enjoy the rest of your weekend.

Back on hands and knees I go and venture into the crawl space. I locate the cobweb covered gas valve. The thought occurs to me that these copper pipes are ancient and that one good tug will probably destroy my entire house.
It’s with this fear that I reach out and start to turn the lever.
To my shock it moves with ease. On to the water valve. I snake my arm through the pipes, grab hold, twist and…nothing.
Frozen solid.
Not even a wiggle.
Shit.

Against my better judgment I grab a rag and add a bit more force. My arm shakes, the pipes shake, the valve laughs at me. I venture out into the garage for some PB Blaster. (For those unfamiliar with the product it’s a spray you use for rusted bolts. I had to use it to change my lawn mower blade. This has nothing to do with the story; I just wanted to show that I do have a tiny bit of maintenance ability.) I soak the valve, wait a few minutes, and try again. Nadda. This game continues for the next couple of hours. I spray, wait a while, empty the water out of the pan, try and turn the valve. The game ends when I form a huge blister on the palm of my hand and brake off half of the valve.

After some much needed cursing, Rachael and I decide we’d be better off just shutting off the main valve and turning off all the water in the house. Thankfully that valve turns and all the water shuts off.

As per our Home Improvement book, Rachael and I turn on a faucet to drain the remaining water in the house. We’re shocked at the amount of water that’s coming out but we just figure there’s a lot of water to drain or maybe it’s taking water out of the water heater. Whatever. The only think I know is that I turned the main valve and the water is certainly off.

So Rachael and I connect a hose to the water heater and I start filling a bucket. It takes about three minutes to fill a bucket before I have to empty it. I’m crouched next to the heater filling the bucket. When it’s full I switch it with another and slide the full one to Rachael so she can dump it. Now while this whole water heater debacle was a horrible experience this next part was one of my favorite moments of my married life.

I’m tired. Rachael’s tired. But we have three minutes between bucket exchanges. In that span Rachael hunches over in the crawlspace doorway and reads aloud from the hilarious book; Shit My Dad Says.

We could be bitching about the situation. I could be cursing the stuck valve and she could rue the day she hooked up with such an unhandy dude. But we don’t. Instead she reads, we laugh, and we make the best of a raw deal. I was really proud of us at the moment.

Of course that pride was quickly forgotten when it became apparent that there shouldn’t be this much water in the pipes. Now, folks, I turned the main shut off valve. I swear by all the universe I did. But, for reason’s still unclear to me, I managed to turn it on (or MORE on) instead of off. I know this makes no sense but when I turned the valve again the faucet dried up with in seconds.

It’s late Saturday afternoon. The water is finally off. We’re tired. We’re frustrated and we still have no replacement water heater.

Oh! And did I mention that when we got home I tried to find a replacement heater on line and promptly downloaded a nasty computer virus? Yeah, I did that to.

What’s next for our heroes? Tune in next week.

--Schoonaert