After a another stressful road-trip to Michigan, I came home to find that my water heater had given up the ghost. Well, it was in the process of dying. There it sat, in its dark little corner of the basement, seeping morosely, shedding little bits of rusty metal that used to be its insides—kinda disgusting when you think about it—staring at me accusingly.
No time for guilty recriminations, I hesitated not a trice! I sprang into action, zipped down to Lowe’s and purchased a new water heater. Note to the Lowe’s: What idiot decided it would be a good idea to put 125 lb. water heaters up on a shelf?? Steeled by grim purpose, I wrestled the behemoth into my car and brought it to its new home.
The old one was unceremoniously removed. Truth be told, I was a little angry at it for choosing to quit this life at the worst possible moment. After fussing and fuming over the arcana of plumbing fittings, I took a break to consider my position. The supply pipes are now too low and the gas pipe is too high. Time for a strategic retreat. Remind me some day to tell you the story of the Silver Sisyphus.
Glass of scotch in hand, I plopped down wearily on the couch to plan my next move. You’ll never guess what happened. As I sat there brooding over the prospect of a cold shower, I made a very interesting and valuable discovery:
I much prefer drinking scotch to installing water heaters.
Huh. Imagine that.
Admittedly… I prefer scotch to just about everything short of respiration; it is a narrowly close second however.
Also – had the opportunity to visit my (Oblation) namesake’s bones in Durham Cathedral two weeks ago… Made the discovery that ((nearly)) as good as single malt ambrosia, was to have a pint of Duker’s Bitter at Stone Bridge Inn at Neville’s Cross on the road to Beamish (a public house where my great grandad embibed 100 years before). It was an extraordinary experience. Both for someone who sports the name Cuthbert and Filer!
Thusly – I got good and pissed! Whilst eating Lambshank Pie!!!!