Out and about yesterday. Errands had to be ran. I ran errands. Errands were run. Nothing to it, really. Out and about to do the things that need doing. Already I have overstated it. Oh, all right.
No. They’re errands and unremarkable in every way. No one cares.
Except to say this. I stopped at a gas station. As I was going inside, a man was coming out. He had a bag of ice under his arm. He seemed a man fixed on his business and going about his way. Passing one another in the doorway it wasn’t the time to strike up a conversation. But I wanted to have a quick chat. I wanted to ask about that ice. I bet he felt silly, since everything, everywhere, looks like this.
That’s our driveway, and this was eight days after the snow and the sleet turned into ice. It isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And today I spent a bit of time widening it out a bit more. Just a car could narrowly pass, but you shouldn’t need to demonstrate your best driving skills leaving or returning home.
Plus we had a great big truck come by yesterday. We had a great big truck visit because of the joys of home ownership.
Let me back up. In November of 2023 I called the well company to do a regular tank maintenance. That was a first for me. I’ve never lived on a well before. The appointment was made. During the time between scheduling that visit and the guy showing up, the well start failing. Imagine a pipe spewing water like a low-stakes submarine movie scene. The guy came with his two workers and squatted down and looked at it and started moaning and sighing and muttering and I honestly thought he was having a medical episode in our basement.
Turns out he was fine, but the tank was at death’s door. We could leave it as is — and I’m still not sure why that was even presented as an option — or we could replace it that day. We chose the later, because I like things to work, and not sopping up my floors.
The new tank, he said, was a fiberglass tank. And it’ll never rust out, which was a big sales point at the time. Perhaps you can see why.
(What is that green stuff underneath the well tank?)
They put in that fiberglass tank and everything was just peachy keen. About three weeks ago, though, I started hearing a surging sound in the walls. Taking a shower, flushing the toilet, running the washer, you’d hear this sound. It was soothing, or it would have been in any context that didn’t suggest your house was about to implode.
So I called the well company again and explained all this. Talked to the owner, an older fellow who could do 10 or 12 minutes of comedy on most anything, I decided. He said he’d come on out, but could we wait until after the storm because he was backed up. He assured me that I wasn’t hurting anything by waiting, because the things that were bad weren’t getting worse.
The fiberglass tank. He had me tap on it and that’s how he knew.
His son came by yesterday, same guy that put this thing in just 27 months ago. Sure enough, the tank was done. Just as his father told me on the phone, these tanks were terrible and they were never buying and selling those again. His dad said they’d bought six, had to send four of them back. We had one of the other two. The owner said he’d been taken it in the teeth on these things. And ours was under warranty. I apologized that he was going to eat another bite of lemon, but I was glad that we weren’t buying a new one. We’d be in for labor, and that seemed fair.
So the son was here with an assistant. They took the old tank out, and put in this new one. We’ll see how susceptible it is to rusting.
Also, the new tank has a five-year warranty. And we did not pay for it, because it was a replacement for the fiberglass failure. Initially he tried to charge me for that, but we worked it out, saving about a grand in a quick and easy conversation.
I hope they don’t have to replace tanks often, because I don’t want to watch that guy lug the thing up and out of the basement, but they seem like fine fellows. Which is good, I suppose, now that we will have them back for yearly inspections.
This, just writing about yesterday, is already threatening to get long, so let’s have a few days of writing in arrears. Today is Tuesday, but I’ve written about Monday; tomorrow is Wednesday, I can write about Tuesday. Tuesday, if you can believe it, was almost as riveting as this tale. Come back and see.
