The Inside Story of the Outside Shower

Yesterday I wrote about Studly Doright building us a temporary shower to use until plumbers can fix our water leak. I shared a few photos, but they didn’t include the faucets or the handy accessories he added.

Notice we have a faucet for cold water and one for hot.
He also added a shelf for soap and shampoo.
And he placed one of the boards at a height that will allow me to shave my legs.

One of the most unexpectedly fun parts of having a shower in the garage is the weirdness of being naked in a place where I’ve never been naked before. So, I’m weird and maybe a closeted exhibitionist. At least I’m clean.

Peace, people.

MacGyver Doright

When I began writing posts for this blog I needed a nickname for my husband. The first one to pop into my head was Studly Doright, based on a cartoon character from my childhood.

Dudley Do Right, not to be confused with Studly Doright.

But also in the running was some version of MacGyver after the tv series about a man named MacGyver who, week after week had to solve some problem or series of problems in order to triumph over evil.

The original MacGyver, Richard Dean Anderson. My oh my.

Since I couldn’t come up with anything clever based on the MacGyver name, Studly Doright won out, but occasionally I really wish I’d gone with the MacGyver moniker. Like right now.

Those that have read my recent blog posts know that we had a water leak here at Doright Manor. The leak went unnoticed for a day, resulting in wet carpet and calls to the plumber. It took awhile to get a plumber out here, so in the meantime, Studly isolated the problem and turned off the hot water.

That was last Friday, a week ago today. We’ve since had the insurance appraiser pay a visit, as well as assorted plumbers and there’s a game plan in place for repairing the plumbing. Unfortunately they won’t be able to begin work until Tuesday. That means we’re still without hot water. That means no hot showers.

I’ve been heating water on the stove to wash my hair and taking sponge baths, but folks, I was not meant to be a pioneer woman. I might have whined once or twice. Studly has been taking cold showers. He’s whined more than I.

But Studly isn’t a whiner by nature, he’s a problem solver, so yesterday he called me into the garage where a variety of materials had been collected.

“What’s all this?” I asked.

“As soon as we get this put together, it’s going to be a shower.”

I knew better than to question his judgement. He tends to get a little defensive if I say too much. Instead, I followed his directions and in about an hour we had a working shower with hot and cold running water.

We have to close the garage door most of the way so no one sees us naked, but not all the way so the water has a place to flow.

I didn’t photograph the faucets, so you’ll have to trust me that they were installed on top of the frame. The thing worked perfectly. We both had a hot shower thus eliminating the need for whining.

Now, I texted my kids during the process and my daughter texted this in return:

Yes, Studly didn’t have to MacGyver the whole thing, but his shower has a certain charm that the store bought one doesn’t, and it cost less as well.

The most important thing is, I Can SHOWER!!!

Peace, people!

We Have Air; Still No Hot Water

On the home front here at Doright Manor we have air conditioning once again. The service man was quick, courteous, and properly covered for the times in which we live. Face mask and gloves, no-contact payment. I was impressed.

A pair of plumbers came all the way from Gainesville, FL, a two and a half hour drive, to map out the layout of our water pipes in order to locate the source of the leak and write up a plan to address the situation. They, too, wore masks and gloves. Their fix isn’t going to be as clean and quick as the air conditioning repair work was, but at least we’re moving in the right direction.

I’ve become rather adept at washing my hair over the kitchen sink with water heated in my tea kettle, but I’m tired of giving myself sponge baths. Our temperature high for the day is supposed to be 89°. I might stretch the water hose out along the driveway to soak up the sun, so this afternoon I could have a warm shower outside. For the neighbors’ sake, I will wear a bathing suit. Still contemplating the logistics.

Wish me luck, y’all.

Peace, people.

Day Two of No Hot Water

We had a water leak in a pipe underneath the sink in one of our guest bathrooms here at Doright Manor. The water seeped into the carpet in an adjacent room—Studly Doright’s office. Fortunately we caught it before too many days went by. Studly Doright turned off our hot water, so at least I have access to cold water that can be heated for various uses.

I heated water for a “bath” in the sink on Saturday morning. My hair is still fairly short, so it wasn’t too difficult to clean. And I gave myself a sponge bath. I don’t feel as clean as I would following a shower, though. Today, I bought some dry shampoo. I hope it will yield good results.

Washing dishes was labor intensive, but not awful. Finding the right ratio of hot to cold water was a trial and error affair. I’m strongly encouraging the use of plastic cups and paper plates for the time being,

Some good news—the damages will be covered by our insurance. We’ll be responsible for paying a deductible, but will gladly do so rather than be stuck with a four or five thousand dollar repair bill.

The bad news? It might take awhile for Doright Manor to get back to normal. The insurance company will provide us with a list of plumbers, but the leak is in pipes running through the foundation of the house. Not an easy fix.

I’m so ready for normality. I just hope I recognize it when it arrives.

When it Rains, You Get Wet

You know the old saying, “When it rains, it pours”? Here at Doright Manor it might not be pouring, but it’s certainly dribbling at a pretty good clip.

A week or so ago I noticed that the water for my morning shower was getting hot more quickly and staying hot much longer than normal. I like my showers hot, but not near boiling. Then today, there was zero hot water. Hmmm.

Also today, we noticed the carpet in Studly Doright’s home office was wet. Now that his company has called employees back to work at their regular office we are seldom in that room. Had I not been sorting through some craft materials, I might not have noticed the dampness until it began to smell like mildew.

Studly’s pretty certain the two events are connected and that the job calls for more plumbing expertise than he has. He’s called plumber after plumber, but no one he’s talked to will come into homes right now thanks to the Coronavirus.

Current status: No hot water, so no shower, no washing machine, no dishwasher. We’re going to start stinking before long.

Peace, people.

Just for the Record

I was searching for something; although, I can no longer remember what that was. I’d looked in my closet, and I’d searched the master bedroom. I looked in the Texas bedroom (so called because I’ve got lots of kitschy Texas stuff displayed there). I searched the office with its multitude of drawers and cabinets.

Having failed to find whatever the heck it was I was searching for in any of the places mentioned above, I opened the door to the antique bedroom. It’s a rather small room and crowded with antique furnishings, so I don’t have much room to store things in there. Surely whatever the heck I’d been searching for wasn’t in there, but I should at least check before ruling it out.

As soon as I entered the room a horrible smell akin to that of a bundle of athletic socks that had been worn through eighteen consecutive sweaty workouts and then stuffed into a green duffel bag and stored in a musty locker greeted me.

I found the problem immediately. Just for the record the carpet in the antique bedroom is not supposed to look like this.

Mold shouldn’t be growing on the baseboard, and the carpet really shouldn’t make “squish, squish” sounds when one walks from point A to point B. I’m not a plumber, but I know a problem when I step in it.

Studly Doright arrived home soon after my discovery. With little fanfare I led him to the room where he immediately did what guys like Studly do:

After much cutting and cursing, grunting and grumbling, Studly determined absolutely nothing beyond the need to call a plumber.

Now there are two boxes of family keepsakes that had been stored on the floor in the closet of the antique bedroom drying on various surfaces in the kitchen.

Fortunately I don’t think anything important was ruined, but it was a near thing. So even though I never found whatever the hell it was I’d been searching for, my search did prevent a catastrophe. As my friend Hunny says, “I’m a lucky, lucky girl.”

Peace, people.