My poor Wonderhubby has been very sick.
Awful, yucky sick.
Not the pukey kind (anyone got some wood I can knock on??), but the feverish, achy, snotty, headachy, I-feel-generally-rancid kind.
And, God bless him, he is not a typical male when it comes to being sick. He isn't all whiny about his ailments.
No. What he is whiny about is: He feels like he isn't accomplishing anything while he is feeling puny.
What the heck???
Now, first of all, let me remind any who haven't followed along before now, WH is severely ADHD. He was the quintessential jumping bean as a child. Couldn't sit still. Add a little dyslexia to the mix, and you have an totally unfocused boy that they -- wait for it -- TAPED TO THE DESK in first grade. Although I am outraged beyond measure on his behalf, it also is some kind of testament to how bad he was if teachers thought that was the only answer.
But I digress. He's ADHD. His motor runs. Constantly.
So even when he is burning up with fever, he's agitated because he isn't DOING something. Saturday was spent doing nothing. Sunday, his temperature was down, and he was scratching at the walls from inactivity.
We took a little excursion for the $1.50 hot dog and soda deal at our local Costco, and when we got back, I poured him back into bed. He was still ootchy from sitting around, though (ootchy is a technical term). Poor thing. I felt so bad for him.
So we were lounging around together (I'm doomed to get this particular yuckiness, you know -- I spent WAAAAY too much time sharing airspace with him!), and the Roo-girl bursts into the room.
"There's no hot water."
So we dutifully turn on the tap in the sink. Son of a gun, she is CORRECT!
Ah, says the oh-so-handy-but-still-a-little-woozy WH. The pilot light is out.
So he dutifully relights it.
And it goes out again.
Everyone takes a sponge bath with chilly water. (Except me -- I go swimming at the gym early Monday morning, so I can have a REAL shower! Score!)
Now my poor sickly hubby has mustered all his strength to actually go to work on Monday. When you don't have sick time, you work or you don't get paid. And on his way home, he picked up the part to the water heater that he thought was the culprit. Please don't ask. It's some thermo-couply-something. My eyes glaze over when he talks about this stuff. I listen, but I have no freakin' clue.
And he installs it. Clever boy!
And the pilot light ... does not light.
So Monday night was spent investigating water heater parts and actual water heaters -- the tank kind and the tankless kind. Gotta love the internet. You can do your research from the comfort of your own sick bed.
And the bottom line, people? We're screwed. We can spend mucho buckos on a new valve-y thing, or for even more bucks, we can replace the whole shootin' match.
Wonderhubby cannot do this dramatic search-and-rescue-us-from-no-hot-water until ... the weekend! As well he shouldn't. He really needs all his reserves to make it through the workday, the poor thing.
So, here it is ... Wednesday. We have had no hot water since Sunday. And there is no pilot light at the end of the tunnel until Saturday.
In the meantime, I cannot wash dishes (can you imagine doing dishes in cold water with Typhoid Larry wandering around???). I cannot do laundry because, not only is there no hot water, but the water heater is in the laundry room, which is now all torn up to heck (oh, darn, I'm soooo heartbroken).
What's a compulsive blogger to do? Bwahahahahahaha!!!!!