Friday, May 16, 2014

Being your own landlord sucks sometimes

Nine years and three months ago, I put in a water heater with a nine-year warranty.

Two days ago, I was in Sears to buy another one after discovering a huge puddle that covered my kitchen floor and soaked half of my living room carpet (how can they build something to break right on time like that??? Amazing and infuriating).

After waiting 25 minutes for a salesman to free himself up, Rusty approached and asked me how he could help.

My water heater blew today. I need a new one.

Blew up? It didn't blow up. They don't do that. 

Well, no, it didn't blow UP. It blew OUT, I guess. At any rate, my house is flooded, I have no hot water, and I need a new water heater. 

And then he proceeded to sell me a new nine-year water heater (the 12-year won't fit in my closet).

Later on, after a couple of beers, I reflected back on my first few words with Rusty.

If my house blew UP earlier in the day, why would I be so calm about it?

And why would buying a new water heater be my first priority?

Rusty's selling water heaters in a vacuum.

I, on the other hand, am looking forward to taking a hot shower that I didn't have to drive across the neighborhood for.

It's the little things.


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