Some like it hot

I have a tale about home plumbing that weaves through several weeks of our lives and touches on humanity as well as home improvement. It will be long, so manage your fluid intake for the journey.

On August 21st, nearly a month ago, Shrop got in the shower while I was getting dressed in the bedroom. I heard a crash and presumed the shower caddy had come off the wall. I peeked into the bathroom and asked if everything was okay, and Shrop said, "Yes."

While I was starting breakfast, Shrop called down the stairs to ask for a pair of pliers. That was an odd request, but I've learned to get the pliers first and ask questions later. Upon delivering the tool to naked Shrop, I discovered that it wasn't the shower caddy that fell but Shrop himself that fell.

Shrop falling was unfathomable. Shrop never falls. And if he fell, he would catch himself or pop back up. Falling in the shower? No. I thought we had another 40 years before that was a possibility. But as Shrop says, even monkeys occasionally fall out of trees. Shrop was standing on one foot in the shower, washing the other with soap, when he lost his balance. Putting a soapy foot down onto shampoo remnants meant he went down hard.

While falling, Shrop ripped the shower handle off the wall, twisted the tub faucet, and bent the drain plug with his body when he landed. It was epic. Shrop used pliers to turn off the water and mentioned we would need to get someone to fix the shower. I scoffed and said I would fix it. He nodded and went on with his day, slightly bruised but confident in the capability of his life partner.

We are lucky to have a plumbing supply store in our neighborhood next to the local bar, sub shop, and 7-Eleven. A very knowledgeable and reasonable man also runs this plumbing store. I took the pieces that had ripped off the shower to him in a ziplock bag. He told me I needed a new cartridge, turned around behind him, and produced the exact part I needed for $24. Great. This should be easy.

Then I realized that the shower, like most showers, doesn't have a cut-off valve, so to replace the cartridge, I had to cut off the water at the street. Do you know how to cut the water off to your home at the street? Say if you were less lucky than we were and water sprayed all over your bathroom. Do you even have a water cut-off tool, bruh?

I was proud of myself that I owned two water cut-off tools. I think I brought one from our previous home and the other conveyed with the house. When I went to the closet where they lived, the newer one was nowhere to be found. How do you lose a water cut-off tool? No worries, I could use the one that came with the house.

The one that came with the house doesn't fit the valve at the street. The one I own is cast iron and resembles a medieval war hammer more than a plumbing tool. I can't find a picture of anything like it on the internet anywhere. The plumbing store owner doesn't know what it is. Dad doesn't know what it is. It's possible that back in 1947, when this house was built, the valves were a different size, but we'll never know. So I didn't actually own a water cut-off tool, let alone two. I just had a giant hunk of cast iron for home defense.

No problem. The plumbing store has water cut-off tools and they know where they are. I went back to see my plumber guy and picked that up. We were back in business.

I learned that while the internet says you only need to turn the valve a half turn (and I swear that's how it was at some other house I've lived in), you have to turn it 180 degrees at this house. Otherwise, you just create low water pressure. I sorted that out and installed the new $24 cartridge. It didn't look the same as the previous one (what was left of it), but it fit in the hole and water wasn't spraying at me, so I called it a win.

The only problem was that if you turned on the water to shower, the cartridge leaked. If you took a short shower, you might not notice the drips because they were inside the walls. But if Shrop took a "long shower" by his standards, it rained in the kitchen all morning. That was August 28th when I discovered that.

I went back to my plumbing guy. He didn't have another cartridge in stock and said it would be "next week" before he could get one. That's when I discovered that his shop only carried the OEM version and I could get the authentic Peerless brand from Amazon for $47. Sold. I didn't even return the other cartridge to my plumbing guy. He gave me $24 worth of help over the week.

Amazon said the new cartridge would arrive between 4 and 8 AM the following day. I was stunned that was even an option, but my phone buzzed at 4:16 AM, telling me my package was delivered. It took me a few days to get the time and energy to replace the cartridge. In the meantime, we had towels stuffed in the wall to absorb the slow leak.

On August 31st, I replaced the cartridge. No leaks. I felt like a winner. It had been ten days and I was ready to call this problem solved.

Except the shower was lukewarm. I knew an anti-scald device was in there, but it shouldn't have made it that tepid. After some noodling around online, I realized there was an adjustment "ring" you could turn to set the maximum temperature for the shower. Okay, I turned it around to as hot as possible, and my instant read thermometer only read 102 degrees. I don't know about you, but that's not cozy when it's spitting out of a shower. I knew that "new" shower valves had features to save us from burning ourselves. Shrop said we should disable the anti-scald device, but I warned him about others who have been burned in showers and wasn't comfortable doing that. But I was still pissed the shower wasn't hot enough for me. The other two showers with handles from the 80s worked great, but I couldn't have a hot shower in my own damn bathroom. In desperation, I turned up the water heater "a smidge."

And then I almost burned my hands at every sink in the house. This wasn't working.

I don't just like hot showers for the comfort of them. I need that high heat to loosen my muscles.

On Monday, I went to pick up Ian from school and brought the dogs with me. Cash failed to hop in the way back and tumbled all over the driveway. To keep him from running off in a panic, I grabbed him and put him in the car "real quick." When I did that, something in my left rhomboid turned into a rock, and my back was all messed up. Great. This wasn't my first rodeo with muscle tightness.

I got home and coached Shrop through using the cups on my back. That helped some. But that same Monday, I realized I had picked up a cold from someone at the office last week. So I was coughing with a tight muscle in my back. Tuesday morning, I woke up with my face itching from an allergic reaction to something completely unknown. My shower was only lukewarm.

I went to bed last night with Sudafed, Mucinex DM, Benadryl, and Tylenol on board to become unconscious. None of them worked. All night, I lay in bed coughing, scratching my face, and trying to find a way to lie in the bed and not hurt. At 4 AM, I gave up and decided to take a shower. It was the worst shower I've ever had in this home.

I was determined to figure out how to get past the anti-scald device without actually risking our safety and violating my homeowner insurance policy. But I was too sick to mess with the stupid tub, and it didn't seem prudent to start at 4 AM.

This evening, I was back in the game. I brought all my tools upstairs and was going to investigate the shower valve. Max temp was 106 F. If I took the temperature regulator ring off, it went all over the place, losing pressure and ending at zero water flow on the other side. That's weird. I returned to my official max temp and started backing off that position to see when it got cold.

People. It got hotter. According to the instant-read thermometer, the maximum temperature my shower could produce was 136 F. It may have been even hotter, but that was enough to tell me something was wrong.

And that's when I realized I had installed the new official name-brand Peerless shower cartridge upside down. I didn't even think that was possible without it leaking. I guess that's the quality of name-brand parts if you can use them wrong and still not spray water all over the bathroom. You might melt your skin off, though, trying to get cold water.

I went back out to my old friend, the water valve at the street. I flipped the cartridge around and am pleased to say it works as expected. I also turned the water heater back down to something much more reasonable.

It has taken me 30 days to fix the shower. And that's with help! I talked to my neighbor, the contractor. I talked to my dad. I talked to the plumbing store guy. I used YouTube. As my old boss Harry would say, "What do stupid people do?"

I could have hired someone to do it. I've hired plumbers for almost this exact job before when the previous cartridge went bad and I couldn't deal with it. But I now have a water cut-off tool that works and know exactly where it is. I can tell you the water temperatures of all the showers in our house. I got comfortable messing with the water heater. I did clever things like closing the tub drain and laying a towel down so I didn't lose critical tiny parts down the pipes. I am very clear how tightly I need to tighten every screw in the shower assembly. I've wandered all over home improvement websites comparing shower kits. And I fixed the shower all by myself.

You can't know everything. And to understand how tight is tight enough, you have to break a few bolts sometimes. Thankfully, all my mistakes were easily managed. And I have earned my hot shower tonight.

Also, water cut-off tools are only $20 and could save your house thousands of dollars in water damage if something goes wrong. Just sayin'.

Happy 50th Anniversary, Mom and Dad

My parents were married on the Friday after Thanksgiving, November 24, 1967. Coincidentally, that date also falls on the Friday after Thanksgiving 50 years later.

Daddy had been drafted into the Army that year. He went to Ft. Sill in Oklahoma for training and while there received his orders to go to Vietnam. He called my mom from the payphone at the PX on Halloween and told her the news. 

Mom, somewhat in shock: "Well, what do you want to do?"
Daddy: "I think I wanna get married."

And that was that. Less than a month later they got married at Langley Air Force base. It was important that my parents be married because the Army doesn't care about your girlfriend and he wanted to make sure they would be taken care of. 

My mother wore a light blue velvet dress that her friend made for her. Daddy and Doug (age 8) wore matching suits. Uncle Jack was the photographer, so the pictures got more blurry the more he drank.

Wedding day, November 24, 1967

Wedding day, November 24, 1967

Daddy left for Vietnam in January of 1968 and was gone for a year. The Army actually insisted on counseling Daddy before he got married because Mom was three years older and divorced with a child. She may have just been trying to get his Army pension (or death benefits). Daddy was insulted. 

In these days of instant communication, I'm amazed that they went that whole year with only letters. Mom sent a letter every single day. They did get one week in Hawaii for a honeymoon. Friends warned Mom that war does horrible things to a man and to prepare herself that he may not look so great. She said that he was tan, in the best shape of his life, and really happy to see her. 

Doesn't my mom have great legs?!

Doesn't my mom have great legs?!

They had two more children (Perry in 1971 and me in 1977) and would have had more if biology would have cooperated. 

My parents have disagreed over the years, like most humans do. However, it was always very clear to me that they adored each other, supported each other, and loved fiercely and unconditionally. 

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Happy 50th anniversary, Mom and Dad. They're not big on fancy celebrations, but I want to give them credit for being each other's #1 fan, incredible parents, and doting grandparents.

October 2013 - courtesy of Megan Boyles Photography

October 2013 - courtesy of Megan Boyles Photography

A goat's bite is poison

"A goat's bite is poison." My granddaddy used to say this on the farm. The last few months it's been one goat bite after another. Nothing heinous. We're not being mauled by bears. Just bite after bite after bite.

When Rich went for his immunotherapy treatment on May 6th, he called me and I could barely understand him. He had an allergic reaction to the treatment and it was making him convulse. He couldn't even hold the phone. It passed in an hour and he was able to soldier his way home by midnight but it was very unpleasant. Bite.

But hey, we would just pre-treat with Bendadryl on the next visit and he should be fine. Except they did pre-treat and he still had a reaction yesterday. It wasn't as bad, but he still spiked a fever, had the shakes pretty bad, and his heart started racing. At least he could use the phone this time. Bite.

Meanwhile, his flight was cancelled so I had to re-book him for a flight today. All he wanted to do was go home and instead he got to go to a hotel in the pouring rain. Bite.

The entire month of May, Rich has also been getting fevers every evening. Nothing extreme. 100F or less and they go away in three hours. But it's every. Single. Night. Bite.

Rich's shoulder is still frozen. He can touch the back of his head and reach his wallet now but he's still a long way from swinging a sword or hockey stick. He still needs pain meds to sleep. Bite.

The pool pump died so we have a 27' duck pond versus a pool right now. Bite.

On May 5th, during an attempted run in Georgetown I felt something go "pop!" in my right foot. After several trigger release therapy visits I've finally gone to the sports doctor. I have a partial tear in my plantar fascia so I have to wear a boot for three weeks and then do a month of physical therapy. Two more months before I can run again. Bite.

I came to work last Monday (the 18th) and my beta fish Bruce was in very bad shape. I spent an hour changing out the water in his tank and putting him in a fishy ICU. I almost flushed him at several points but he kept moving. I know he's just a $10 fish, but I've really enjoyed his company since I got him in January and I was not looking forward to his demise. I worry about him every day. Bite.

I have paid $600 to EZPass (because it was cheaper than going to jail), $500 in car taxes, $600 in insulin pump supplies, and many other little random payments for things I don't even remember. Between my shoulder and Rich's foot, we've been paying $160 a week to the trigger release therapist. Nibble, nibble, bite.

Ian has been regularly sent to the office at pre-school for "not listening." Some of it is legitimate obnoxious five-year-old behavior and some of it is just normal kid stuff. But I'm really tired of these super serious conversations with the principal about how he will perform next year in kindergarten if he's climbing up the slide instead of sliding down it. Really. Don't. Care.

Bite.

I emailed Daddy to get confirmation on Granddaddy's saying. I surmised the phrase was because the goat was relentless. I kept thinking of the analogy that a goat has been chomping away at us for a very long time.

But he wrote back and said he called it "persistence." That gave me pause. All day I had been thinking of all these little injustices as the goat's bite. Really, the goat is continually chomping away at little things to feed himself and survive. 

I got Rich first class tickets for his trip home today. Bite. 

Rich's shoulder is healed enough that he can fight spear. That means he can fight at Pennsic. Bite. 

I found a replacement pool pump for $150 and it arrives Saturday. Bite. 

The boot is warm but it actually makes my foot feel better. And I still have plenty of time to train for my half marathon in November. Bite. 

Ever since that first day, Bruce the fish has been rallying and continues to swim around his little tank. Bite. 

We paid off the minivan this month and I've found several big ticket items to sell. Bite. 

Ian finished his last day at preschool on a high note and was hilarious and clever at the dentist this afternoon, including helping them take my x-rays. Bite. 

If we could find a goat to bite through belly slime, we'd be set. But we'll just keep nibbling away at things with persistence.