mike's web log/comments

I have natural gas service to my house and some gas-fired appliances (furnace, dryer). For a long time I've also wanted a gas stove. There are inherent advantages to gas, such as instant hot and (I believe) better economy. Plus my electric stove, vintage 70s, does not, you know, perform well. But I've held off. There is not a gas tap for the stove in the kitchen, so I knew it would involve some plumbing costs to get that set up. I also am mildly resistant to changes in the kitchen because I don't really want to get into a big remodel just yet.

But through some mysterious psychological mechanism, all of a sudden I decided it was time. I got home from work a little early on Friday, so I called up the local plumbing contractor to set up a time for them to do an estimate. I had envisioned this occurring in a few weeks, but they assured me they could come by "first thing Monday" or, if I wanted, even on the weekend. Well, ok, then.

So Monday I was prepared to receive the plumber. I was vaguely expecting them to show up dot on nine, because I've had good luck with contractors in the last little while. Not this time; they showed up around 10:30. I explained my (gas plumbing) desires to Lead Plumber, and we talked about other possible extensions in the future, such as a gas water heater. As I had strongly suspected, this meant running new, larger service all the way back to the meter. While his assistant played with the dogs, Plumber Senior calculated up costs and came up with a price that was slightly higher than I wanted, but not far off from what I was expecting.

He then made it clear to me that they could start right away. Oh! Well, ok, that would be cool. I signed his estimate form. They got their stuff together and told me they needed to go get a permit and go to the wholesaler or the warehouse or something. They'd be back in an hour, they said. I told them I had to leave at some point, but that the back door would be unlocked.

The hour came and went. Two hours approached. Hmm. It was getting to the time when I needed to leave. I wrote a note with my phone numbers, taped it to the back door, and took off. I was expecting to have a message when I got to work, but nope. So finally around 3:00 I called the company and asked what the hell was going on. They apparently chased down Plumber Senior, who called me back. Well, it had taken longer to get the permit than they thought. And yadda-yadda, some other problem, I don't know. Naturally, they had called immediately to tell me this. Wait, no, they hadn't called me at all! Now I remember. This was turning into a more typical contractor story.

The real showstopper in all this turns out to be the permit. Once the guy shuts off the gas at the meter to start the work, they're not allowed to turn it back on until the inspector signs off on the work. Had they started today, it would have been too late to get an inspection, and I would have been sans heat for the night. Chilly.

Our agreement at the moment, about which I have some slight skepticism, is that on Wednesday, Plumber Senior's day off, he will "call in the inspection" for Thursday afternoon. He will then show up early Thursday and do the work, to conveniently be done when the inspector is there. As I say, that's the plan. I can foresee a problem or two in there, but I shall hold my opinions to myself.

On the plus side, I can now go shopping for a gas stove. The range of ranges (haha, lame) is between $400 for the "It's For My Rental Property" model to about $1700 for the stainless steel "I Hope People Mistake Me For A Professional Chef" model. (This is just at Sears; if I were to go to an actual appliance store, the sky's the limit.) Being constitutionally of the disposition commonly known as "cheap bastard," I tend toward the former, though even I turn up my nose at the bargain-basement models. Mr. Mid-Range (haha, again), that's me.

With every such improvement, I inch closer to the edge of the cliff of a full-on kitchen remodel. I keep looking askance at the ugly floor in the kitchen. Probably I should not stop in the flooring department of Home Depot, not if I know what's good for me.