So yesterday, my shower wasn't hot -- it was lukewarm. Lukewarm, verging towards tepid in short order. This made me sad, since it was a Saturday, a challenging day to get a plumber to come out and... fix whatever the hell it is.

So, I went back to basics and put the problem off. I accomplished this successfully for several hours, but eventually I figured I should at least look at the hot water heater and make sure it isn't spewing water everywhere. First I stalked around the house, trying to figure out if I heard any water noises, but nuthin'. So I clamber up into the attic, and peer at the thing. No water in the splash pan. No sparks or explosions or banging noises. The heater feels warm to the touch. No gas smell. Burrrrr?

The obvious answer is that the pilot light is out, but my eyes start to glaze over as I read the instructions. Physical maintenance on a house appliance? Dude, that's not how I roll.

This morning's cold shower convinced it was time to at least give it the old college try. Once again, I clamber upstairs. I follow the extremely prominently placed instructions to the letter. And by gum, if I don't relight the pilot light, and totally fail to explode in a Tyler Durdenesque blaze of glory. Fifteen minutes later: HOT WATER.

Hey -- this stuff is easy! Who knew? My world view is shattered.