Last week a ‘possum saved our lives. True story.
The other night, Mister and I had just settled down for a medium summer’s rest, when outside our bedroom window, there arose such a cladder, we decided to ignore it and check it the next morning.
After my first cup of coffee, I remembered the din of the previous night and moseyed outside to see what the heck had gone down. There was nothing much to eye, other than the crawl-space cover on its side. I looked around and figured we’d heard a rambunctious opossum, out for his nocturnal adventures. (They do that around here.) I put the crawl-space cover back in place and chilled the hell out. At about that time, Mister came round the corner, just to see for himself what had caused the previous night’s ruckus. And that’s when he said it: “It smells like gas out here.” He was right. Our gas meter is on that side of the house, and there was a definite odor in the area.
Now y’all – I have been saying I’ve smelled gas on that side of the house for, well, probably since we moved here. But whenever others were there with me, no one seemed to notice it. I didn’t think I was crazy or anything. I just chalked it up to sensitive olfactory glands and let it go. But when Mister noticed it, too, I decided it was time to act.
I called the gas company’s hotline for leaks and such and my call was answered by either Beavis or Butt-Head, I’m not sure which. That guy was so pained to deal with me, it was all I could do to force him to register my call. The first thing he told me was that a general odor had been reported in my area and that no further action was necessary. I asked him to confirm the area and he gave me a place name about a hundred miles away. I said that couldn’t possibly be relevant to my home situation, and made him go through the processing of my complaint again. At some point he began arguing with me about the pinpoint source of the leak. Rather calmly (I must admit, I was impressed with my ability to not blow a gasket), I told the service person that “I am not a professional, I don’t claim to be a professional, and I have no intention of lying just to make your job easier.” I reiterated that the odor was localized and strong. He agreed to send out an inspector and that ridiculous phone call ended.
About a half hour later, there was a bit of noise on the side of the house and I walked out to find the gas company rep writing up his report. He told me he had definitely seen lesser leaks, but that this one was dangerous. He had to shut off the gas for the sake of safety. He then showed me the corroded gas pipe and said it was clearly a leak site. He walked me through the necessary steps I’d have to take in order for the gas to be turned back on. Basically – I would need to contract a plumber to remove the damaged pipe and replace it. Then a pressure test would need to be performed, to insure there were no other leaks. Then and only then would a gas company inspector be sent back out to confirm the repair and turn the gas back on. Easy, right?
I don’t know how it is where you live, but here in L.A. it takes a while to get a service person to your home. And once you achieve that step, an estimate must be obtained. If accepted, the actual work appointment can then be made. I was told we’d have to be without gas from 2 to 4 days. And yes – it’s summer and we don’t need to turn on the heat. But hot showers are nice, aren’t they? And cooked food is pretty slammin’, right?
Actually, I accepted the situation right away. It was a safety issue, after all. And then I admitted cold showers aren’t the worst thing in the world. And we do have a grill, so we wouldn’t have to go on a raw-food diet or anything. And I even accepted – reluctantly – that this whole she-bang would require a big, fat check. (I may need therapy for that one.) All in all, I knew it could have been worse. Like the house could have blown up.
So I set up a few estimates, but ultimately went with my go-to guy anyway, as that fellow shows up when I call. And that is pretty danged awesome. In fact, he had the repair wrapped up within 24 hours. We then had to wait for the gas rep to return and verify the repair, before turning the gas on. Once that was checked off, we were back in business. Two and a half days had passed, and we were still alive.
Hot water is now available at the turn of a knob. I can cook on the stove and in the oven. And – perhaps most important – we are safer than we were before.
If I can impart any wisdom from our experience, it is this: never underestimate the value of the opossum. Last week, an old ‘possum saved our lives. At least that’s the way I plan to tell it from now on.