On fixing a water heater.

So I fixed the TPR valve on my hot water heater today.  Some of you might not know what that is.  What it does, what happens when it breaks.  And that's fine.  I didn't know any of these things until recently, either.  And none of that is really the point.  The point is, I fixed the TPR valve on my hot water heater today.

I could go into detail about it, I suppose.  Talk about that knot in my stomach as I stepped downstairs two nights ago, looking for lighter fluid, only to hear the carpet squish beneath my feet.  The phone calls looking for the contractor who once owned my home looking for guidance.  I could detail the Google searches for "hot water heater diagram" and "TPR valve leaking" that enabled me to diagnose the problem and the herculean effort involved in twisting the valve on the inlet pipe shut.

I could talk about how I turned it into a joke at the New Year's Eve party, shrugged it off the next day when I found out the hardware store was closed.  About how I sat down and made a quick list of the materials I'd need to fix the problem, thanked my friend for donating his wrench to the cause.  I could tell you about the conversation I had with two guys at the hardware store who helped me pick out the right parts I'd need.

And I could tell you about wrenching the pipes apart, twisting off the faulty valve and cramming the new one in against the spurt of now-cold water, hands still gooey with teflon paste.  Grunting as I twisted the pipes back in place, feeling that wave of relief wash over me when I turned the intake back on and nothing spilled out onto the already-soaked carpet.  Slamming the baseplate back on after relighting the pilot, and walking upstairs to hear the gurgle of the hot water output coming to life when I turned on the sink.

But I won't.  Because there was a problem.  And I didn't rail against the Fates about it on social media (well, too much, anyway), call a plumber, and wait for someone to do it for me.  I looked for a solution, asked the right people for help, and fixed the damn thing without raising a stink.

Because that's what being an adult is all about.  It's about putting your self-pity and uncertainty down and doing things that need to be done.  It's about recognizing that the "I can't"s and the "I'm not able to"s don't give a shit when they're spitting water all over the floor.  It's about knowing that in the end, all complaining really does is annoy the people close enough to listen.

So maybe that's what I should do this year.  Stop talking about my problems and do something about them.  Start taking responsibility for the tangled mess of my life.  Start acting like an adult.

But enough about me.  What were your resolutions this year?