Oh no…

Yesterday afternoon found me staring shocked at a geyser of water erupting forth in the basement. The water was exploding into the air a good three feet. My first instinct was to try and smother the flow of water with my hands, but this, obviously, didn’t do much more than completely cover me in water.

In seconds that corner of the basement was filled with water. The sump pump engaged, but it couldn’t nearly keep up. At best, it was pumping out a quarter of the amount of water coming in.

I grabbed my cell phone and quickly called the last number on my ‘recent calls’ list: a guy named Mike.

“Hello?” he answered
“Mike? This is Mike DiDonato. I’m in trouble.”


Early on Sunday I stopped by Lowes to buy a few pipe wrenches. There was a small water leak in the basement but nothing overly complicated. The only trick was that it was just barely upstream of the water meter. This was not a major concern as there’s a second valve just upstream to where the water meter is.

I cranked off that valve and the leak petered out. The only other issue was that I’d have to disconnect the water meter and water meters have small ‘no tampering’ wires. So I called the city.

This was my first interaction with Mike. Mike works for the Meriden Sewer company. I told him about needing to break the tampering line. He said that was no problem and that they’d send someone out tomorrow to replace it once the leak was fixed.

Once I had permission I went down into the basement and started taking apart the line. First, I took off the water meter. No trouble there.

Next, I took off the leaking pipe. No trouble there.

Finally, I put my pipe wrench around the last broken piece – an elbow. As I applied torque to the system the pipe UPSTREAM of the valve shuddered briefly… and then a burst of water fired out. I immediately remembered Mike’s last comment to me on the phone: “call me if you get into trouble.”

“What happened?” he asked
“The line upstream of the valve blew as I was trying to get the pipe off”
“How bad is it?”
“bad. I’m going to need the water to the house turned off.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”

As I waited to hear back from Mike I double checked the sump pump. It just wasn’t pumping fast enough. I started wondering what I would possibly do when the water reached the furnace and the water heater… Maybe I could go ask the neighbors for another sump pump?

From the kitchen, you could hear the water surging in the basement.

About 10 minutes passed, during which I frantically ran around lost. Not having any idea what to do. It was then that I saw a truck pull up.

Mike stepped out. He had curly hair and glasses. His jeans and shirt were worn. He looked like just the right person for this job.

“Let me see how bad it is.”

I brought him to the basement.

“let’s go see if we can turn if off. Do you know where the water turn off is?”

I had no idea. We walked to the front of the house along the edge of the street.

“have you ever seen any sort of metal water cap when mowing the lawn?”
“I have not”
“oh man. It could be anywhere. I’ll probably have to go to the town records and see if I can find the plumbing schematic for the street so we can find it.”
“ugh.”

And then, I saw it. It was the edge of a metal cap covered mostly in overgrown grass.

“Wait… Is that it?”
“You are a very lucky man.”

We took the top off and he put a long wrench into the 4 foot deep hole. He tried turning it but was unsuccessful.

“flashlight?” I offered
“yeah. we might be in more trouble. Sometimes these are so full of dirt that we have to get a pressurized water truck to come and blast the dirt out.”

I ran to get him a flashlight trying to calculate in my head how long I had before the water heater and boiler were both submerged in water. When I got back he stuck the flashlight into the hole and put the wrench in again. Mike quietly asked for divine assistance and gave it a short turn clockwise.

“You are a very lucky man today. That never works so easily.”

We walked inside the kitchen; there was no sound of water coming from the basement. Sure enough, the water had been turned off.

Mike helped me sweep most of the water into the sump pump hole. Then we took a look at the pipe.

“This is bad,” Mike said, “if the pipe is this rusted here… it’s probably at least this rusted running all the way out to the street. You’ll probably need to have the whole line replaced”
“oh no…”

Mike and I chatted a bit more about plumbing and the types of problems he encounters on his day to day job. Then I thanked him profusely for his fast action and sat down to figure out what on earth I should do now.

And that’s still kind of where I am. I spoke with my Boss and told him that I might not be into work today as I try and clean up this mess. First things first, I suppose I’ll buy some water for the house.

After that… things will presumably get a bit more complicated.

Kettlebells and Chains

New House of Rock roommate Brian has a set of kettlebells.

Kettlebells are a Russian weightlifting tool that basically look like cannonballs with handles. They exude and aura of extremeness. Brian lent me a few DVD’s that cover the basics. Provided Brian’s willing to share the bells, I’m hoping to start in on a rough routine this week. It has the potential, I think, to rock me back into a fitness drive.

In other fitness news, I had my first 2 hour kung fu class last night. It was really unique. We spent the first hour working technical drills and the second hour on sparring. I was very tired by the end.

That said, the beginning stages of a new belt level are always a blast because you get to learn new stuff. For example, last night I started learning the first moves to the chain of death.

Chain of Death.

How hardcore is that?

Houseworks.

It is done!

The whole legal process went smoothly. The lawyer explained the documents and I signed them one by one.

It was all quite professional. Until I went to stand up and smashed my head against the chandelier above the table and then turned around and practically knocked over chair I had been sitting on.

Oh well.

House of Rock.

Provided all goes according to plan by the end of this day I will be the official sole owner of the House of Rock. In order to get Jesse’s name removed, I was forced to refinance.

And let me tell you, refinancing is a huge pain in the butt. In addition to costing scores and scores of mula, it’s an adventure that requires a legal team, a mortgage lender, a mortgage broker, an insurance team, an accountant (or someone equally as tax-savvy), and the alignment of the 48 moons of Saturn. As it happens, the celestial bodies seem to have fallen into order and at 2:00pm I will be passed a stack of papers 8 inches thick and a blue pen with which I am to sign blindly because, seriously, who’s going to read all that crap. Oh yes… and thank you so much for lending me the money that’s already being lent to me. Here, let me write you a staggering check to pay you for your troubles.

Adding to the frustrations is this whole credit crunch mayhem. The lender actually required me to write a short something stating why I wanted to refinance. Essentially… an essay. I had to write an essay. You can’t make this stuff up. Being the meager homebuyer that I am, I gladly bucked to their demands, wrote up my piece, and thanked them for the opportunities.

Back in the day, J.P. Morgan used to give out loans based on the character of the borrower. Frankly, I think it’s unfortunate that we can’t fall back on this. These days it doesn’t matter how much dirt is under your fingernails… it’s more important that your mortgage costs won’t exceed 30% of your salary* and that you can write an essay explaining your desires to refinance**

Kung Fu threats don’t work either***. In fact they aren’t typically taken very well at all. Those bankers are an ornery bunch.

No matter. Sometimes you pass Go and other times you land on Luxury Tax. Let’s leave the banking matters to the banks and just hope that the coming years find the house of rock filled with good times. Here’s to you House of Rock!

*That number might not be right. I don’t remember exactly.
** The purpose of this, if you’re curious, is to create a paper trail so that if something goes horribly awry and it is found that I refinanced for some other less worthy reason, I can be held responsible and the bank can cover its butt.
***
bank: Mr. DiDonato, how’s 6%?
mike d: 6%!?!?! It sounds like you guys need a good crescent kick to the head.
bank: how’s 6 and an eighth?
mike d: 6 and an eighth is just fine.