Tara noticed that the hot water wasn’t working so I did what always seems to work, unplugged it and plugged it back in. When that doesn’t work, the next trick is to turn off the gas, wait 5 minutes, and restart the system. I could hear it clicking telling me that it was trying to ignite the pilot but nothing. I took the bottom door off and low and behold, it was chock full of rust bits. I took a vacuum to it and had it spick and span, but still nothing. Tara called the rental company.
A young man came by around 8 AM, and it wasn’t long before he relayed the diagnosis I expected from an 18 year-old unit. He drained the tank and said he’d be back in an hour-and-a-half with a new unit and muscle reinforcements.
I never envy anyone having to bring anything heavy and bulky either up or down our basement steps. The ceiling at the landing is low, the opening is narrow, and I don’t even know how they got our old washing machine down there because I had to take it apart to get it up. I’m sure I’ll have to do that when the dryer eventually gives away. So far, I’ve been able to repair it to last the 17.5 years I’ve owned this house.
It was likely another 2 hours by the time they ran new piping outside and handed me the paperwork, and within another 45-minutes, we had hot water again.
Since I had all of the stuff stored on the ledge of the stairs moved so it didn’t get knocked over as they squeezed down the steps, I decided it was time to squirrel to another reno job, and fix the drywall and edge.
Priorities.