Water heaters: I've never met one I liked

I hate water heaters. I never met one that I liked. As a lot, they are an unruly bunch; individually, they rob their owners and pick on servicemen. In the many years that have passed since they and I first discovered our mutual dislike, we've been feuding. They're winning. They always win. Who ever controls the hot water in our modern society always wins.

They win a lot. Their water leaking, pilot-outing, mustache scorching, burned-out-element antics are hard to keep up with.

"Go on out to Sadie Whatshername," said my boss to me back on the first job I had up here. "Take a look at her water heater."

I'd been a TV repairman, had lots of electronic training-heck, this didn't seem like a fair contest, me vs. a simple electric water heater.

I realized when I stumbled going down an unfamiliar stairs that they, water heaters, can see in the dark, down there in the basement. I fell the last three steps, into a painful tangle of arms, legs, and spilled wrenches.

The water heater said, "Hey? You ok? You the guy thinks he can fix me? Can't even walk? Mr. Big Shot? Never met a schematic you couldn't follow? Think you're ready for me?"

Add sarcastic and condescending to my list of reasons why I don't like water heaters.

I searched in the dark for this fellow who was taunting me. I swept the surrounding walls with my hands, hoping for a light switch. I found cobwebs as I groped my way around in the basement, lost. Evidently what they say about the lost walking in circles is true. I made a circle and tripped over my scattered tools, and as I fell, felt one hand sweep two Mason jars off a shelf next to me. They shattered on the floor like bombs. The water heater snickered.

It hadn't been like this with televisions. They were always upstairs, in rooms with windows and lights and people who were eager to lead me to the set, so they could watch Gilligan's Island. A home with a leaky television set could not be tolerated.

People never lead servicemen down to the basement. That's because they're afraid of what's down there. It doesn't matter that the folks that live there haven't showered in several days-they leave notes that say: "The door's open. If you need me, I'm in the living room watching Oprah." Then they'll add: "Excuse the messy basement." They can't clean down there because the water heater might get them.

In the process of wind milling around the basement, I found a light bulb, which I screwed in. It gave off about twenty watts, and yes, the basement was a mess. In the dimness, I tried to plug my trouble light into the light socket's receptacle, and couldn't. All trouble lights have a polarized plug-one blade larger than the other. Light sockets don't. I think that's because they're also afraid of seeing the water heater. Anyway, the polarized socket is there to prevent.What is it there to prevent? Someone seeing the enemy?

I approached the rusty old electric water heater. Boy! They sure are long lived. I gingerly removed the inspection covers with my screwdriver, which I dropped. It rolled over into the corner under a moldy old mattress, two broken lamps, and a dehumidifier that hadn't worked in this century.

I thought I saw a loose screw terminal in the water heater. I reached my screwdriver in and BAAAZZZAATTTT!!!

I flung myself backward from the solar flare of my screwdriver slipping and shorting 240 volts to ground. I landed on the mattress, blind, with a fireworks display of great balls of yellow and red cascading across my retinas. After several minutes of stargazing, I looked at my screwdriver. It was a lot shorter.

"You bit the end off my favorite screwdriver, Water Heater!"

"You shouldn't have stuck it in my face, Mr. Smart Guy," replied the water heater.

I pulled my voltmeter from a pocket, and approached the water heater again. I wasn't paying attention and tripped over a pile of National Geographics. I put out a hand to catch myself and stuck it right into the 240 volt terminals.

Electrocution isn't so bad, really, just a bunch of your muscles contracting in rhythm to the pulse of alternating current, kind of like birds flying around in your arm.

Luckily, I was falling, so my hand came loose, and once again, found myself lying on the mattress.

They give shocks to crazy people, because it feels so darned good when it quits. I felt really good, and warm, too. Then I realized the warm was wet. I looked. The water heater was peeing on me.

I hate water heaters.