Well, that's not good. This morning I went to take a shower after returning from my brisk morning walk with Gracie Lou and I get undressed and run the hot water in the sink so that I don't have to stand there shivering while the shower heats up.
And I'm waiting.
And shivering and I stick my hand under the water and it is not hot. It's not even all that warm. Which is odd because the water usually gets hot in about 30-45 seconds.
Great. Just great.
So I put on my robe and go outside to the water heater. First, I turn on the hot water faucet of the outdoor sink just to check. Nope. It's Not Hot.
Then I open the door to the hot water heater closet and everything LOOKS okay but it's eerily quiet. Usually I can hear something but not this time. And I put my hand on the tank and it's cold, very cold.
Somehow, between 10:00pm last night when TheManTheMyth took his shower and this morning, our 3 year old hot water heater decided to quit. Didn't even give 2 weeks notice. Just up and quit.
I'm not going to go and try to light the Pilot Light, which I'm pretty sure is out because I didn't see nor hear it, because when it comes to lighting things that contain gas and flames, I'm a scaredy cat. With good reason.
When I was in high school, we had a gas barbecue that was hooked up to the gas line of our house. And we used that barbecue almost every day because it was so easy to use. All you had to do to light it was turn the gas lever to ON and stick a lighted match in the little hole in the side.
Well one time, I could not get the match lit. I must have tried lighting a half dozen of these wooden stick matches and they would not light. And all this time, the gas has been on.
I finally got a match lit, bent down to stick the match in the hole and BOOM!
Half of the hair on one side of my head closest to the barbecue was singed and I think I lost part of my eyebrow. And everything stunk like burning hair.
I screamed and ran straight for the shower, pouring half a bottle of conditioner on my head in a failed attempt to keep my hair from looking like a Brillo pad.
Ever since then, I've had a healthy fear of pilot lights.
So now I have a good excuse as to why the dishes aren't done. Although I'm pretty sure TheManTheMyth will point out that if I would have done them last night after dinner, it wouldn't be a problem.
He always manages to find a way to beat me at my own game.
And now, this has nothing to do with anything but I leave you with an amusing photo that was taken somewhere on Easter Sunday circa 1970.
And yes, be jealous that I had a Mrs. Beasley Doll.