A Lovely Morning

Early Monday morning I rolled out of bed much earlier than usual. I had things to do. An uneventful Thanksgiving weekend was at an end, and it was time to return to reality.

First thing on the agenda, I needed to create a few words for Daunt to Dillonwood.

Because of the pandemic, my family didn’t want to risk being infected, or of infecting dear old Dad. So, Thursday morning I cooked a turkey breast. This left me with a nicely wrapped package of some of the most-enjoyed part of the traditional meal, that of leftovers.

Even though I didn’t do any traveling, I simply hadn’t made time to write. When I woke at 4:30 Monday morning, it was definitely time to get the keys clicking.

Because of the early hour, I wanted to take a shower to get awake. As I brushed my teeth, my little part Russell Terrier, Lucky, pattered down the hall. This is her way of telling me she wants to go outside.

Because I was ready to step into the shower, I followed her to the back door, naked as a jaybird. After all I live alone, on a hilltop with no neighbors, so there was no risk of causing a neighborhood spectacle.

I stepped to the back door and immediately drew back my bare foot. The throw rug was full of liquid. It was so wet, it actually squished when I stepped on it. There was no smell, nor taste (I actually checked), so I had to assume it was nothing more nefarious than plain old tap water. The next thing was to determine which pipe had leaked.

Since the back yard had been irrigated Sunday evening, my first thought was something had really gone wrong with the sprinklers. A quick investigation while Lucky was outside, eliminated the watering system as the culprit. I returned to the bathroom, still puzzled. While I showered, I pondered what had gone wrong, trying to figure out the problem.

The first conjecture in the shower was the washing machine hoses. Maybe one of them had sprung a leak. I’d go look as soon as I was dressed. Then, with a sinking feeling, I remembered the hot water heater. It had been resting peacefully in a small closet which opens to the outside, and backs up to the porch. Since I couldn’t remember when that hot water heater had been replaced, with a sinking feeling, I realized it might well be the source of the water on my porch. It wasn’t going to be an easy fix of replacing a washing machine hose. I was going to have to replace the hot water heater.

Just to make sure, I checked the area between the washer and the puddle. Nope, no water there. It didn’t come from the washer. Nothing to do but venture outside and look at the hot water heater.

With a dread, I opened the door. The first glance didn’t reveal anything leaking. But with a sinking feeling I noted the bottom of the little closet was suspiciously wet. I went back inside for a flashlight.

On hands and knees, I shone the light under the tank. There it was: a steady drip coming out of the bottom. I’d found the source of the water covering my porch floor.

I knew the hot water heater was old. One of these days I was going to find only cold water coming out of the hot water faucet. However, the shower I enjoyed while contemplating the mysterious presence of a squishy rug, was delightfully warm.

Knowing the device was old, I’d even thought of installing a tankless gas unit when the need for replacement arose. However, it would take a great deal of time and effort to put in a propane tank, then plumb the gas to the house, not to mention the installation of the tankless unit.

So, since gas was most probably out of the question, maybe an electric tankless unit would be the answer. In the dark of the early morning hours, I began researching online the availability of these units. This idea was also fraught with problems to overcome, not the least of which was the requirement for larger wires to carry more current. That meant replacing the existing wires, again a time-consuming task, and would be during the cold winter months. This most probably meant taking frigid showers for a while. Maybe I better rethink that one.

The decision was quickly made for me, when I found nobody in the southern San Joaquin Valley had an electric tankless in stock. Everybody was anxious to ship one to me by mid-december. Nope, that’s not the solution. A tankless water heater is out of consideration.

However, not surprisingly, one quick call found me a new 40 gallon electric hot water heater at Weisenberger Hardware. All I had to do was take my credit card with me, load it in the truck, and bring it home. They’re helping eliminate the potential for a cold shower.

The new unit would have to be installed in the house, though I knew it would be relatively simple. There had been a tank water heater in the house since it was built in 1960.

A few minor adjustments to the plumbing and electrical. Bob was employed to give me a hand with the changeover. By noon the electrical was connected, and the plumbing was complete. With the tank full and all the air evacuated from the hot water lines, the circuit breaker was turned on.