NEVER ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON
I had two hot water tanks go out in the same building on the same day, a Friday afternoon.
Four guys can carry in a 92-gallon commercial hot water tank . And I can pay $5,400 for their fun.
No plumbers were around. They were all preparing their boats for Lake Erie weekend-cruising.
I reached Stack Heating. Stack said he didn’t do commercial hot-water tanks. Just boilers. I reached Royal Flush. They said they couldn’t get it until Tuesday. Dale at Madison Plumbing could do it Monday. Pompeii said never. B & B Hot Water Tank said no thanks.
I started flipping through the Yellow Pages. That is the end of the world.
I braced myself for calls, like “Mr. Landlord, there is no hot water. How am I supposed to go to work without showering? ” . . . “I have to stay at my parents’ house and it’s 60 miles from work . . . ”
It’s not pleasant, these scenes.
I got Bill the plumber. He came by and blow-torched the old tanks to dry them. (The tanks had flooded because a sump pump had failed.) The plumber gave the first tank a 50-50 chance of recovery. The second tank had 40 percent chance, he said. I liked his odds.
The first tank went on after six hours of pampering. We were good.
Still, it was no picnic.
. . . Dear Landlord, I have deducted $275 from my rent payment because I stayed in a hotel for three days due to the lack of hot water.
In honor of the mildest summer ever . . .
I threw out my dad’s wife-beater T-shirts. About time. My father died 27 years ago. The wife-beaters were balled up in my dresser drawer.
When it’s 90-plus degrees — which it isn’t often this summer — I think “wife-beaters.” I used to wear my dad’s wife-beaters around the house.
My wife bought me a wicking T-shirt with UV protection at Target. Only $11. It was cooler than the wife-beater.
I saved one of my father’s T-shirts for posterity and threw the rest out.
Underwear fashion is generational. My grown sons aren’t interested in my wife-beaters. My dad wore his wife-beaters under dress shirts for work, for his day job at the key company.
I’m going to buy a couple more ultra-light wicking T-shirts.
No doubt, my sons will pitch my ultra-lights when I’m either dead or not looking. By 2025, T-shirts will be spray-on from a can.
Meanwhile, I’m wickin’ cool.
A version of “Wickin’ Cool” was on CoolCleveland.com 7/12/12.