Friday, November 08, 2013


Hot water.

We take it for granted.  Turn on the tap, wait a few seconds and lovely hot water to wash your hands, hair, bod or stuff in the sink.

Hot water.

It's everywhere.  Gone are the days when you boiled it in a pot or kettle, poured it in a tub of cold water to take a bath.  Just turn the tap and there it is.  On demand.

Except ...

... when the oojah goes South for the winter and hot goes tepid to lukewarm to downright chilly heading for cold.

That's when you make the call to your faithful plumber who is always sitting by the phone waiting for that call at which time he will tell you, "Oh, the oojah went out.  Sorry to be the bearer of bad news but your house has two oojahs and they'll both have to be replaced.  Hang on for a second while I call the BMW dealer and place an order for a new car."

Plumber put me on hold.  Hold music was Pink Floyd, "Money."  Figures.

Well, two oojahs later we are back in hot water, somewhat poorer but richer in the luxury of hot water on demand.  And demand it I will.

In the morning.  Right now all is well in Mudville and I'm calling it a night.  It was a tiring day watching those guys work.  Out with the old, in with the new (times two, of course!)

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