Yesterday, I awoke somewhat tired, the result of several recent late nights due to my own inability to go to bed. I’ve always been somewhat of a night owl, generally requiring much less sleep than the average person (a personal trait that irritates my euthyroid husband who needs 8-10 hours of sleep per night). My original plan for the day was to go on a homeschool field trip to Plimoth Plantation, but some early morning rain nixed that idea. Instead, I dealt with the unexpected.
First on the list: my water heater. At 6:30 am, my honey-a-tankless-water-heater-is-so-much-more-economical (but only when it actually functions) water heater began indicating a diagnostic code, that happy little number that references a master list of malfunctions that the manufacturer decides could possibly go wrong with your appliances. I’m not quite certain what happens if the code number is absent from the list, but I digress… As I was putting laundered clothes in the dryer, I noticed that the water heater was flashing a red light, Morse code style, in a 137 combination. Having dealt with this phenomenon before (don’t even ask how many times before), I called my husband to inquire as to the significance of “137.” After indicating his pleasure at yet another water heater challenge, he referred me to the master list. Under “137” I found the words, “bad element/circuit #4.” Apparently, this is neither an insurmountable problem, nor one that will cause the water heater to fail (praise the Lord, I will not be out of hot water and, once again, playing the real-life version of Frontier House!). My hubby reassured me that he would deal with the problem very soon. OK. I believe that. :-)
Second on the list: I stepped on my cat. Yep, I stepped on the front paws of my I-just-returned-from-the-vet-after-having-my-front-paws-declawed cat and opened three of his incisions. After calming down from my total panic at injuring (or rather re-injuring) this lovable baby, I rushed him to the vet (sans shower) to have the damage repaired. Thankfully, they put him back together with some tissue glue and instructed me to keep him confined for the rest of the day. OK. I can do that. :-)
Third on the list: the attitude attack of my middle cat. Kit, the anything but clay litter is just too gauche for my superior stature feline, otherwise known as “the escapee,” decided that the substitute litter, required in our household while the youngest cat heals from declaw surgery, was completely unacceptable. No self-respecting cat of his obvious class and breeding could possibly lower himself to use a litter box that contained such filth. No, instead, he decided that relieving himself on the floor under the television shelf was more dignified. I found this little gift after I returned home from the vet. Thank God for Petastic Stain & Odor Remover, guaranteed to work or my money back. OK. I trust that. :-)
So, how was your day?
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