I recently had another story accepted for publication in an
anthology series called “Not Your Mother’s Book On…” The book’s topic is “Home Improvement”. Since my late husband, Bob, and I shared a
love for fixing up, decorating and maintaining our home, we spent many hours
together—sometimes agreeable—sometimes not—on do-it-yourself projects. My
story, titled “In Hot Water”, recounts our frantic attempts to deal with the
aftermath of a gushing leak in the water heater.
The book will be out in bookstores in September
of 2013.
Writing stories that help me recall fond memories from my
life is an important item on my Cancer Journey bucket list, because, just like my dearest
friends, they bring me joy. You can read the story below:
In Hot Water
by Gloria Hander
Lyons
“What’s that noise?” asked my husband, Bob, standing in the
hallway outside our bedroom door.
I walked over to stand beside him and cocked my head to one
side for maximum audio reception.
It was definitely an unusual sound—like thousands of tiny
metal beads trickling down inside the wall. I glanced up at the ceiling and
experienced one of those “light-bulb” moments.
“The water heater!” I screeched. It was directly overhead in
the attic. Those weren’t beads tumbling down inside the wall, it was a
waterfall.
We took the stairs two at a time and opened the door to the
attic. Sure enough, there was a geyser shooting out the top of the water
heater.
“Turn it off!” I yelled.
“I can’t,” said Bob, dodging the spray, “there’s no shut-off
valve!”
He bounded down the stairs and out to the main line at the
curb. I stood in the first floor hallway and watched in horror as water seeped
out underneath the baseboards, bubbled up through the carpet and pooled around
my feet.
Bob yanked off the cover of the underground box and peered
down into a black hole. Back he came in search of a flashlight, and then sprinted
out to the curb once more. I was impressed—for 64, he was moving pretty darn
fast.
Now he could see into the dark crevasse. It was as plain as
day that the shut-off valve was covered under several inches of mud, which had
dried to the consistency of concrete.
He dashed into the garage for a spade to chisel the dirt
away from the handle. A jackhammer might have been a better choice, but he
hadn’t yet added that item to his stash of tools.
Finally, he unearthed the critical knob, but it just
wouldn’t budge. By now, the water cascading down the walls was trickling out
the back door.
He jumped up for another run on the tool cache in the house
and bumped into me standing right behind him.
“I thought you might need this,” I said, holding up a
wrench. All do-it-yourself homeowners are
well aware of the fact that you can fix anything with a wrench and duct tape.
Bob finally twisted the valve closed, and we both collapsed
onto the grass. We looked at each other and broke out in giggles, thinking
about our Keystone Kops routine.
It must have been the adrenaline from all the excitement,
but we felt victorious—another crisis averted through quick thinking, teamwork
and skill.
The soggy carpet and waterlogged ceiling waiting for us inside,
however, were another matter. But, unlike Scarlett O’Hara, we didn’t have the
luxury of thinking about that tomorrow. We put in an emergency call to the
plumbing company for a new water heater and spent the rest of the day hauling
wet carpet and padding out to the driveway.
“Maybe we should install a ceramic tile floor instead of
carpet,” I said, placing an eight-foot ladder below the drooping ceiling. I climbed
up and used an ice pick to poke a hole in the sheetrock to drain the remaining
five gallons of water from the attic.
Bob slid a bucket underneath to catch the stream. “That’s a
great idea. I’ve always wanted one of those tile-cutting saws. Let’s head over
to Home Depot as soon as the plumbers are finished.”
And just like that, we were off and running again on a brand
new DIY adventure.
Home sweet home—definitely not for the faint of heart!
Cherish your memories! They will bring you joy!
