I emerged from my cellar. My water heater (not, contrary to the common usage, a hot-water-heater, as I only heat the cold stuff to make it hot) decided to shut down some time Sunday evening, and I did not notice it until yesterday evening, when I had to scrub away the day.
There is no problem with the appliance, however. The trouble lies in the rains. My basement's raw clay floor seems to have reached saturation late in the evening of Sunday, from the heavy rains dumped upon us over the weekend, as they leaked through my cracked and battered bulkhead. And, even though the water heater is on a platform several inches above the clay, the water pooled high enough to cause the pilot and the gas to automatically shut off.
In theory, I could go down there and bail water out into the alley for a few hours, but I could see that nature is taking its course, and the water will be absorbed into the clay in a day or two. At that time, I will be able to lay in some rugs or mats or a few boards upon which to walk, so I don't slide around on the slick clay and fall in the remaining muddy mess... the way I did last evening.
And I had no hot water with which to wash the mess off me.
I feel so... pioneer-y.
Maybe I'll take a hot shower at Mom's, today.
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