OPINION | RICHARD MASON: Dealing with water, water everywhere

Dealing with water, water everywhere

I hope y’all have enjoyed a taste of Fargo, N.D., recently. That week of freezing temperatures, snow, ice, and sleet is one of the main reasons I’m a Southerner.

If you live in Fargo, you are probably warm and cozy, and that blast of North Pole air is why your house, pipes, and clothes are well insulated. You are likely aware of how unprepared the Lone Star State was, and are shaking your head. Texas is paying the piper, you might say, because the same natural gas compressors, windmills, and other energy equipment in North Dakota are roaring along, while similarly equipped Texas is having a national emergency.

Texas, as well as most of the South, has been having warmer than usual winters, and didn’t think extra insulation was needed. But with climate change, more hurricanes and fires and floods and Arctic air are happening.

Still, if you are freezing in the dark without water, knowing why doesn’t help you much.

What was looking like an early spring turned into a freezing hell for nearly a week, and what might be called a “cold snap” in Fargo will be known in these parts as The Big Freeze.

We’ll tell our grandchildren how Starbucks had to close, and since the pandemic was still hot and heavy, we had to hunker down with family for days while we watched reruns of “Everybody Loves Raymond” until we had the lines memorized.

Let me whine a bit and tell you how I knocked a hole in our bathroom wall to keep from creating Lake Mason. It started on Feb. 19, the toughest day in south Arkansas, and I was worrying that my koi pond in the front yard was going to freeze solid and I was going to have frozen fish while watching Dr. Fauci tell us we were going be wearing masks until 2025 or later (although I was thinking that since a good cotton mask helps keep your face warm, that might not be so bad).

Then Vertis ran into the den yelling, “Water is coming out of the wall and the bathroom is flooding!” That will get you moving. Sure enough, for once, Vertis wasn’t exaggerating. Water was running out of an under-the-counter cabinet like crazy, and I remember a plumber telling me that we had between 85 and 100 pounds of pressure on our water line.

When I opened the cabinet door, water gushed out into the bathroom. Extra water pressure might be great when watering your lawn, but not when you have a busted pipe in the wall. Water was coming out between cracks where the back wall came together.

I immediately tried to stop the water from going into the bathroom, which led to our bedroom one way and into the dining room through another door, and we didn’t have a floor drain anywhere. Actually, I don’t think anyone has floor drains.

Jamming towels into the spot where most of the water was coming out didn’t work. As water started flowing into the bedroom and dining room, I knew I had lost the battle. I rushed to the road where our water meter is located and dug out the snow, dirt, and leaves until I got to the meter. But I didn’t have anything to turn off the water. It takes a special long-handled tool.

I wondered why it didn’t have a valve. But I figured the plumbers union wanted to make sure not just anyone, and that was me, couldn’t simply reach in and in seconds turn off the water.

I ran back to the house (try running in 10 inches of snow and ice) and when I got there I could tell if I didn’t do something fast, we were going to have water a foot deep in the living room, which drops down about 18 inches.

So I headed for our tool shed (a junk closet in the carport) and the only tool I could find that might help was a sledgehammer. When you are in a crisis anything might do, so I grabbed the sledgehammer and tackled the problem. I know you don’t repair busted pipes with a sledgehammer, but I had a plan.

I ran outside to where I was opposite to where the busted pipe was pouring water into the bathroom and started swinging. Since I didn’t have a floor drain, I was going to make one in the side of our redwood paneled house.

“Damn,” I thought as I banged away, “that redwood is tough.” But eventually if you hammer anything with a full-size sledgehammer long enough, something’s got to give. It was nearly me.

However, I finally broke through, pulled out the wet insulation, and managed to get the copper pipe that went to an outside faucet off. I ran back into the house and stuffed nearly every available towel in the gaping hole, which redirected the water outside.

Later we had a colleague who works on our downtown properties come by and turn off the water with a meter tool, and the next day we had a plumber repair the busted pipe.

We used every towel in the house to try and control the water. The clothes dryer has been spinning for days, but there is good news: My koi pond, which looked like solid ice, has thawed, and the 15 koi are in good shape. I really couldn’t believe it. I stuck my hand in the front pool and it was like a deep freeze.

Since we lived in Texas for 12 years on and off, we still have a lot of friends there. When we called one and asked how she was, she said, “I’m fine, but I don’t have any water, electricity, or heat.” I felt really stupid, whining about a single busted pipe.

Email Richard Mason at richard@ gibraltarenergy.com .

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