Last night was hectic. On Tuesdays the Hubby usually gets off at a normal hour, but that didn't happen. See Tuesdays are like Mondays for him, seeing as how his only days off are Sunday and Monday. Anyways, after dinner was served, baths were being taken, and Sugarbaby was screaming he called home to say he would be late. No biggie. I got it under control. I'll just grab that frying pan and conk myself over the head and it will all be alright.
He got home just in time to read the boys their stories and put them to bed all the while juggling Sugarbaby so I could take a shower. Did I mention it was a semi-ice water shower? No? I didn't? Oh, I guess in middle of all that chaos and thoughts of tranquilizing myself we developed a gas leak around the water heater. Once I smelled the gas, I tracked it down then hurried everyone outside until the Hubby got home and shut it off. So....basically, no hot water. But really I didn't care because me getting to take a shower is equivalent to how often it rains in the Sahara. Usually I savor it, languish in it, stand there until it turns to ice. So much for conservation, but I figure the number of days I go without it makes up for my wastefulness.
The Hubby took the Monster to school and picked up a water heater and is headed home to install the sucker, just in time for me to do all the dishes. Lucky me.