Replaced almost immediately after we moved in 14 years ago, I couldn’t be too upset that it had lasted four years longer than the 10 the technician at the time told us it would be good for.
What I was upset about was that it was winter, 9.30 at night and three out of four of us hadn’t showered yet.
Murphy’s Law states that these things never happen at a convenient time, if there’s even a convenient time at all.
Of course, the one child who had already showered was then blamed for breaking it by one of the others.
I told them for the 13th time that day to “cut it out” as we set to work weighing options and boiling the kettle over and over again to add to a shallow bath.
It was that, or use my New Year’s Day-purchased membership finally and go shower at the gym, but I’d already taken my bra off and put my slippers on, so I wasn’t too keen on that option.
The kettle water warmed the bath, but I was sitting in little more than a puddle — again something that wouldn’t have bothered me in summer, but by the end of an early August midnight bath, I was shaking like I’d just clamped my hand around a live electric fence.
My kids, who’ve pretty much grown up in an instant society, where gratification often comes immediately, were struggling to understand that we might be without hot water for a week or two.
I was questioned with incredulity, and grew a little annoyed myself when noting impatient annoyance in their tones.
I reminded them that this was just a minor inconvenience with ways to get by.
We could shower at family and friends’ places, we could shower at work, we could even still shower at home if we could cope with a cold one.
Talk about first-world problems.
The next morning, I called three providers for quotes.
One team — the only one who even got back to me that day — was able to arrange installation for the following day.
We weren’t even going to have to suffer through a single weekend without this creature comfort, bless those little hot-water tradie angels.
That night, my eldest and I packed our toiletries and towels and showered at my parents’ house.
Luckily, they’re not pranksters, but without locks on bathroom doors, it could have been a much more nerve-racking experience at someone else’s home than it was at theirs.
My middle son, who was at work at the time, opted for an ice-cold blast when he got home.
My youngest decided he could go another day without washing. There’s always one bohemian.
The kind of thing that puts it all in perspective, though, was right in front of us.
It was Homelessness Week.
Some people in our community don’t even have a warm bed for the night or a roof over their head, let alone a shower, hot or cold, so surely we could survive a few days without hot water.
After all, we do it while camping anyway.
We are lucky to be surrounded by several friends and family who all offered their amenities, and several more who would have helped us if we’d asked.
They’re the same people who would also make sure we never went without a bed if we needed one.
In under 48 hours, hot water was restored to our home.
We’re grateful that we only went without for a couple of days, grateful that we had a spare $3500 lying around to pay for a new one, and grateful for our support network of friends and family.
Not everyone is as lucky.
So, yes, nothing is certain — not in the least, hot water — but death and taxes.
11°C