Well, guess what?

Uh-huh. All penis jokes aside...my pipes exploded. In two places. I was going to shower at work today. On my way out the door I heard the river. After a mad scramble to find a crescent wrench (I would've preferred a Croissanwich) and then another mad scramble to identify the main shut-off valve (curiously, it looks nothing like a shut-off valve), the water was off.

Right now, a plumber is underneath my house, crawling in muck and making sure I pay dearly for it.

My sense of humor is just about gone. My patience disappeared several hours ago. About the only thing that is bringing me any joy right now is my puppy's new preference for a small ottoman the wife keeps in the office. It's like a perch for puppies.

In retrospect, there's not much I could've done differently. As one commenter put it, my pipes had probably cracked before I even started dealing with them last night. It was just a matter of time before the river started. And if I had called a plumber last night, the emergency "should've called me during the daylight, punk" hours prices would've raped me.

But, really, that's all just sick rationalization.

The truth is: I am without penis.