Pride cometh before the fall

Last night, I was on top of the world. I learned how to remove my copper heating pipes all by myself! (Thanks, internet.) With a really cool copper cutting tool I got at Lowes for ten bucks, a bucket, and a sponge, I removed almost all of the downstairs pipes in an evening! I was hauling them out onto the porch, shopvac-ing the mess, and feeling mighty pleased with myself as I released the baseboards from their aluminum and copper bondage. GIRL POWER. I CAN DO IT ALL.

And then I totally screwed up. I blithly cut into a pipe running from the kitchen upstairs, and it spurted water. No problem, that had happened on another pipe that went from the first to second floor. The heating pipes will have a bit of water remaining after they're drained.

BUT THIS ONE DIDN'T STOP.  Yes, I had cut into an active pipe that just happened to be carrying hot water to the upstairs bathroom.

"HOLY FUCK, NO, NO, NO, NO! SHIIIIIIIIT!" First I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off. Then I made like the little Dutch boy trying to stop the flow and promptly got showered all over my face and glasses. Then I stood there whimpering for a minute before dashing to the basement and running around looking for water valves and finding none, as water began dripping from the floorboards onto my head.

I pictured the entire first floor turning into a sea.

And I called the Barchi.

"Hello?"

"Issac. Molly. Crisis. I cut into a pipe and there's water everywhere and I don't know how to turn off the water. How do I turn off the water."

Isaac, in his I'm calm but Molly needs help voice: "Janine--Molly needs to know how to turn off the water."

Now, Isaac is one of the most competent people I know, but he also knows that Janine is the go-to girl in a home-related crisis. The little Dutch boy might have stuck his finger in the dike, but this little Dutch girl would have either had a tool to fix it right in her pefectly labeled toolbox or would have found the proer dike-repairman in, like, a minute and had it fixed for good.

After discovering that I had no idea where to find any of the water shut-off spots she suggested (through no fault of my own, it turns out, because they don't actually exist in this house, but still vaguely humiliating) she told me to call 311 or 911.

Genius!

Except that 311 got me the Hampton, VA info line, and they offered to transfer me to Newport News emergency.  WTF?? But I digress.

So it was on to 911. They said they would send a car.

Yay! A nice policeman was going to stop by and help me find the turnoff!

I called Janine and thanked her while I waited....I listened to the water in the kitchen. (Fortunately, there was no sea. The water was seeping down through the floorboards into the cellar at a nice steady rate.)

And then, the Worst Possible Thing Ever happened:

They showed up.

"Oh. No. Janine, they sent the fire engine. Oh no, no, no this is so embarrassing. Gotta go."

The fire engine was about half a block long.

Picture one just like this at 11:30 pm. Lights flashing. All traffic blocked. I actually hung my head in shame as three men, wearing their big fire-fighting coats, climbed down from the cab. What must my new neighbors think of me??

It took officers Antonucci, Parkinson, and Henderson at least 10 minutes to figure out how the heck to turn off my water. Turns out there are no valves on the hot water heater. They never found a shutoff where the main water line entered the house. They used a special tool to turn off all the water at the street. Crisis resolved. I sopped up the mess, went home and took a long shower, and slept remarkably well.

So, girls and boys, the moral to this story is:

The word "car" means different things to different people.

Tune in next time for more exciting house antics!