Patron Saint: Tom Brady Or How I Learned to Love the Sound of Toilets Flushing

Thursday Night:
Got home from dinner with Patrick, only to find that there was no water. After running around the house checking taps, it was confirmed. No water coming into the house.

Poking around, there can only be one answer: Frozen pipes.

I called the plumber that we normally use, Action Plumbing but there was no answer. I hunted through the phone book looking for more plumbers, and found one that looked promising. I called; an answering service woman responded and said someone would call me back.

Time passed. No return phone call. Called again. Time Passes. By now, it is midnight. Called again. Finally someone calls me back, obviously groggy from sleep. Says that nothing can be done tonight and he would be out tomorrow morning.

Bathroom #2 and #3 "in use" before realized that we have no water.

Friday:
The plumber, expected at 8 shows up at 11:30. The plumber confirms: the water main is frozen. Says he needs to dig two holes to get to both ends of the frozen water main and "shock" it to thaw out the pipe. I decide to get another opinion.
Action plumbing does send someone out around 2:30pm. Says we need to find the buffalo box (or b-box for short) so we can connect one end of what basically consists of jumper cables on the outside line and the inside shut-off valve and run current through the pipe. Current = heat, heat = melted ice.

Of course, lots of things can go wrong -- the current can be too weak, the pipe can be weakened by the current, the pipe could be too cold, etc. So they might have to dig.

Problem: None of us can find the Buffalo Box. M swears it is between the sidewalk and the grass, but we can't find it.
We call the city to come out and find it. Plumber leaves, but I call back the first plumber and tell him no.

Time Passes.

I go to dinner at a friend's place, and have a charming dinner.
I come home to a message from Action Plumbing: the city came out and tagged the spot so call him first thing in the morning and they will get started.

I got to bed.
12:45. Suddenly ill. I don't want to use the bathrooms - already "in use" and no means of cleaning up. So I go outside, fall to my knees in the snow and throw up. To spare too many details, I had one of those "two exits, no waiting" (as my friend Charlotte puts it) situations and did it outside (hey, if it is good enough for Max, it should be good enough for me.)
I crawl back in bed, covered in frozen sweat (literally - it was about 1 degree outside) with a half dozen Jewel shopping bags to puke into because I couldn't clean up anything else. Eventually, I fall asleep.

Saturday:
I get up, feeling fine but really tired. I wait for the plumber who says he will be there by 8, but is still not there by 9:10. Patrick, a saintly house guest, stays and waits for the plumber.

As I walk past my puke, I am amazed that splattered warm fluid + snow = eaten away snow that looks a lot like the acid alien blood burns

I manage to get to my spin class just before it starts, and the class is full. So full, that one student has taken my teaching bike off the podium and put it in the audience. So I decide this is a gift, and "lecture" teach rather than punt a student out of the class.

I get back to the house: the plumber has come and gone. The city didn't tag the spot and when the city does, then the plumber will come back and start the work.

Time passes. I call the city water dept: they are cranky with all the calls.
More time passes. I call the city water dept again. This guy is nicer. "Oh. Yeah, here you are. B-Box find. Right now we are only working on emergencies, so it may be a while to get to you." "Well, I don't have any water, so if you can give me some idea, that will give me some time to go wash and run errands' (By errands, I really mean, use public restrooms like a homeless person)
"Wait" he says, "You mean, you don't have any water at that address?"
"Yes" I reply.
"Is the house inhabited?"
"Yes. I am the inhabitant."
"Oh. We have you listed as a B-Box find. I will put you on the Emergency List. It should be a little while but they will get back to you soon."
Time Passes.

Midnight, the city comes, finds the B-Box in exactly the spot M. said it would be. I have no explanation why the three of us (plumbers and me) didn't see it but, there it was.

Sunday:
Plumber says he can come at 11 am.
Plumber shows up at 11 am - first time on time.
Plumber gets no where with shocking the pipe. Says, he needs to dig a hole in front yard to get to base of pipe. $1,800.
I had my hopes set on it being something simple and easy. And that I would have water.

They leave.
I decide to go see a movie - Tokyo Godfathers (ehh. It is a video rental if that. Not that good; overly sappy and slow.) I come back home, and that is when the Super Bowl Miracle happened.

I heard the sound first. Sputter, splat, whish. The water was running in the kitchen. I dropped my keys and ran around the corner to see it for my own eyes. I hooted.

I ran downstairs, and saw the basement tap flowing. I ran upstairs. *flush* *flush* *flush* Ah, I cooed, the sound of a flushing toilet.

Lesson learned: either have leaky faucets or keep your taps running in really bad weather. That, or pray to the patron saint of Super Bowl Miracles: Tom Brady.