Monday’s clinic was kind of crappy. I got home late, after seven p.m., and hungry! But Hubby was already reading stories to our freshly bathed and pajama’d kids, so I delayed dinner and jumped into the bedtime routine. An hour later, at least Babygirl was asleep and I was REALLY hungry. I was plotting how to extricate myself from Babyboy’s nighttime neediness and get myself a snack when I heard words that no one wants to hear late on a workday evening:
“Honey, the basement is flooding!”
Yup, the water heater burst. Thank goodness one of us knew how to turn off the water (and despite the cartoon here, it wasn’t me). The old tank must have rusted and then just ruptured; there was only an inch or so of water over half the basement.
Babyboy was quite alarmed by all of this, and refused to settle until he’d seen the damage firsthand. He stood on the cellar stairs hugging his lovey kitty Gus, surveying the rippling puddles. Then he asked:
“Why aren’t you guys calling a plumber?”
And so we did. A quick survey of friends and family yielded our guy, who installed a brand-new water heater before noon today.
We got lucky. If that thing had burst in the morning after we’d all left the house, or overnight while we were sleeping, or this past weekend while Hubby was away, we’d have a much bigger mess on our hands. A quick internet search tells me that leaking/ gushing water heaters are responsible for scads of basement floods, and it can get pretty ugly. As it is, we’ve only had to toss an old rug. (Well, the artificial Christmas tree may have to go as well, but it doesn’t light up anymore anyways.)
An unexpected, unpleasant, and expensive household disaster, but, could have been much worse. For this, and a husband who knows a bit about plumbing, I’m feeling extremely grateful!