![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Yesterday morning I got up to go to work and jumped in the shower to discover genital-shrinking cold water, but could do nothing about it until this morning, when I climbed up to the attic where the water heater is.
Step 1: Read the warning on the outside of the heater. Normally I wouldn't pay a lot of attention to this, but as it's a gas water heater and could conveivably go blooey if matches are placed in close proximity I figure it's probably a good idea.
Step 2: take the cover off the pilot light and gas main lines. Relatively easy to accomplish.
Step 3: Look inside. For some reason all the flashlights in the house have gone missing, or have been used as blugeons by Destructo. A quick check with the wife confirms this, and also that we have no sources of open flame in the house (Destructo, again), so it's off to the neighborhood market to get a flashlight and some matches or an aim-a-flame.
Step 4. Tools in hand, light the pilot light per instructions. Not too difficult, and I've only wasted about an hour trying to light something with a match. Only when the pilot light gas feed bypass valve is released, the pilot light goes out. Poof.
Step 5. Check online for how this stuff is supposed to work. Ah. Pilot light heats the adjoining thermocouple, which keeps gas flowing to the pilot light as long as the thermocouple stays hot. If the pilot light goes out, odds are it's a bad thermocouple.
Step 6. Drive to Home Depot and buy a replacement thermocouple for $7.
Step 7. Replace thermocouple. Hm, it seems that the only screwdriver capable of removing the old thermocouple (the screw is in the confined space inside the bottom of the heater) has gone missing (Desctructo, I'd wager). It's probably somewhere in the house, but could be buried in the back yard. A search of Descructo's room turns up a number of pieces of missing silverware, some parts of somebody's ceiling fan (probably one I bought a while back to go upstairs but never installed), all my Beatles CD's, and a storeroom full of half-eaten food.
Step 8: Call wife and ask her to bring home a short Phillips head screwdriver when she comes back from her thing.
We're holding at step 8.
In other news, I'm told that an acquaintance of mine has made it to American Idol finals. But it's a secret. Don't tell anyone!
Step 1: Read the warning on the outside of the heater. Normally I wouldn't pay a lot of attention to this, but as it's a gas water heater and could conveivably go blooey if matches are placed in close proximity I figure it's probably a good idea.
Step 2: take the cover off the pilot light and gas main lines. Relatively easy to accomplish.
Step 3: Look inside. For some reason all the flashlights in the house have gone missing, or have been used as blugeons by Destructo. A quick check with the wife confirms this, and also that we have no sources of open flame in the house (Destructo, again), so it's off to the neighborhood market to get a flashlight and some matches or an aim-a-flame.
Step 4. Tools in hand, light the pilot light per instructions. Not too difficult, and I've only wasted about an hour trying to light something with a match. Only when the pilot light gas feed bypass valve is released, the pilot light goes out. Poof.
Step 5. Check online for how this stuff is supposed to work. Ah. Pilot light heats the adjoining thermocouple, which keeps gas flowing to the pilot light as long as the thermocouple stays hot. If the pilot light goes out, odds are it's a bad thermocouple.
Step 6. Drive to Home Depot and buy a replacement thermocouple for $7.
Step 7. Replace thermocouple. Hm, it seems that the only screwdriver capable of removing the old thermocouple (the screw is in the confined space inside the bottom of the heater) has gone missing (Desctructo, I'd wager). It's probably somewhere in the house, but could be buried in the back yard. A search of Descructo's room turns up a number of pieces of missing silverware, some parts of somebody's ceiling fan (probably one I bought a while back to go upstairs but never installed), all my Beatles CD's, and a storeroom full of half-eaten food.
Step 8: Call wife and ask her to bring home a short Phillips head screwdriver when she comes back from her thing.
We're holding at step 8.
In other news, I'm told that an acquaintance of mine has made it to American Idol finals. But it's a secret. Don't tell anyone!
