My lack of posting in these first few weeks of 2008 does not mean nothing has been happening. I’ll catch you up.

The best story is a wet one. I woke up one Wednesday morning for work bright and early at 7AM. I stumbled to the bathroom and reached in to turn on the shower. In stead of the usual torrent all I got was a trickle.

This was not going to be good.

My mind raced through the possibilities of what could be the problem. Staying at Jason’s was my first experience dealing with well water but I knew enough to first check the breakers on the fuse box to make sure there hadn’t been some problem during the night. Everything there was OK.

Now…panic set in.

Since this was not my house no plumber or electrician or plumber would work on the house without Jason’s approval and with his being in California , contacting him could not happen until somewhere around noon so, effectively, my day at work was cancelled. Jason usually uses his cell phone, which has some very bad coverage where he is living, and was out exploring northern California every time I tired calling their house number. It wasn’t until late Thursday night that I was able to reach him. Arrangements were quickly made with the company name found on the pump hardware for a repairman to come by Friday.

This had made two days without running water. Dishes started petrifying in the sink and I used the pool as a reserviour to keep the toilet running; filling the tank by hand for each flush. Showers? Yes, I took showers through the generosity of my friends two doors down. I would wake up a half hour early to walk down to their house and use their shower. It was either that or use the pool, and since the pool wasn’t heated I wasn’t looking forward to the shrinkage; my testicles would have ended up somewhere around my throat.

The repairman showed up Friday and stood for a moment looking at the collection of tanks and pipes in the garage. Within moments he said, “You problem is the pump, that’s not our equipment.” I think he saw the panic in my eyes and quickly said, “Hold on a moment.”

He went to his truck and returned with a screwdriver. Within thirty seconds he bent over the equipment, found what he was looking for, took the screwdriver by the shaft, swung it and tapped the pump twice.

The pump sprang to life!

“You’re shitting me!” I swear I could hear the pump laughing at me.
The repairman too his scientifically designed and calibrated uber-screwdriver and drove off to save another mechanically inept person.

With my luck, if I had tried the same thing, the house would have flooded. With each shower I take now I am secure in the knowledge that if it happens again I can respond like Bob Villa with my own expertly calibrated screwdriver.