Last night I was alerted to a possible problem when I didn't have any hot water to wash my face. So, I head down to the hot water heater.
There's a fountain gushing from the top and pooling around the base of it. While I'm not an expert, I was pretty sure that it wasn't supposed to be doing that. And of course, I also had a major migraine and had finally got all three of the kids to sleep. I didn't want to play with the water. I wanted to go to bed. So I called my husband. He told me to shut the water valve off on top. I did. It didn't do anything. He ended up coming home and having to shut the water off to the whole house because the shut off valve on the unit was broken. But it was night and I was going to bed. I wasn't too concerned.
Then came morning. We turned on the water long enough to take care of the essentials (you know, like making coffee) quickly, before the thing started to over flow again. Then he took the parts he needed (which meant no more water. At all.) and set off to find a new one with the money we just pulled off the money tree in the backyard.
I babysit the neighbor's adorable two year old in the mornings, so I had the three kids and we were happily playing in the backyard. Until the neighbor boy managed to find the one pile of dog poop in the backyard. But he didn't just step in it. He slipped in it. And fell. In it. Remember the no water thing? Yeah. A two year old, covered in dog poop. And no water. Except for my tears...
How come so much of my life seems to involve poop? People can no longer have a conversation without me mentioning it at least once. Before I had kids, I don't think I ever even said "poop". Now I say it 50 times a day. At least. I'm so much fun.