{ The End of 2010 }

Let me tell you about the last 36.5 hours of 2010.

They. Were. Epic.

I got home from work on Thursday evening about 5:30. I found wet carpet in the hallway. In front of the hot water heater closet. Really, really wet carpet. A 2' x 2' area. I called Mike, who sounded like death. He had emailed me earlier in the day saying that he was getting sick again and felt awful. Well, he sounded awful too. Nonetheless, he came home ASAP and called a plumber while I soaked up as much water with towels as possible. It's after 6pm on December 30th, I thought. This is definitely not getting fixed tonight...and tomorrow may be a stretch, too!

We found a plumber who could come between 11am and 1pm the next day. Mike turned off the hot water heater...and my scalp started to itch. I'd woken up late that morning and didn't have time to wash my hair, so I'd just taken a 30-second shower and pulled my hair into a ponytail. Visions of me welcoming the new year, crusty from two days of showerlessness, began waltzing through my head.

I should probably mention that we've been going through a cold snap in these parts. Several days of below-freezing temperatures have kept a nice skiff of snow and ice on the ground, and as soon as the hot water heater was off, we had nothing but ice water coming out of the tap. Try washing your hands in ice water. It's not pleasant, is it?

Mike was clearly and utterly miserable. This is a man who does not complain and who vehemently denies illness in any way, shape, or form. I could tell this was serious when he actually said he was really sick. He was literally shaking, he was so cold--in spite of wearing a shirt, sweater, and hooded sweatshirt and being underneath a blanket. When the thermometer said his temperature was 101.8 degrees, I loaded him up with Theraflu. I knew he was really, really sick when my night owl said he was going to be at 8:10pm. He was asleep within two minutes.

It was a fitful night, with a painfully-hot-to-the-touch Mike flailing about in our double bed, but somehow we both managed to be presentable before 11am, the earliest the plumber said he'd arrive. Mike was still miserable, though better than the night before, and I was keeping my {greasy} hair firmly ensconced under a stocking cap. I sent out a plea on Facebook for space heaters to dry the still-sopping carpet. A friend, who happens to live in the same condo complex, came over a few minutes later with one. I headed to WinCo in spite of my unkempt state, picking up another space heater from a friend on the way. I called Mike to make sure he was alive. He said the plumber had called and would be there at 1:30.

I got home at 2:30 and found Mike on the couch, swaddled in blankets, watching "The Office."

Nikki: "Did the plumber come?"
Mike: "No. He called again and said he'd be here at 2:30...ish."
Nikki: "Aaaaahhhh!"

Thankfully, the plumber did show up before 3pm. Even more thankfully, it wasn't the whole hot water heater that was shot; there were just two leaking flex pipes. The "pan" underneath the unit also had a large crack in it, which is why the water had so quickly accumulated on the floor. Everything was fixed and the hot water heater was on within a half hour. Praise the Lord!!

Our plan for New Year's Eve had been to go bowling with our church from 6pm to 9pm, then head to a party {complete with a white elephant gift exchange} at a friend's house. Mike was feeling progressively crummier, though, so we ended up not going to either. As a matter of fact, he once again fell asleep shortly after 8pm, and I joined him in bed at 9:15. I didn't even bother taking a shower, even though we finally had hot water again. After all, I was just going to spend another night next to my sweaty husband...may as well consolidate and just take one in the morning! As we were lying there, both trying to fall asleep since I'd wakened him, Mike snuffled blearily, "Just think of this as practice, babe. This is how we're going to be ringing in the New Year when we're 70."

And that, my friends, is how we spent the last 36.5 hours of 2010!


P.S. Mike went to the walk-in clinic on Saturday because he was still feeling pretty sick, and after determining that he doesn't have an infection or the flu, they sent him home with instructions to keep taking Tylenol and Theraflu. He's better now, but golly! That was exciting!