The other day I was down in my basement, where I seldom go, and I noticed that my pressure tank was leaking. My pressure tank, the big 120 gallon tank which holds water drawn up from my well. It was leaking, a little continuous squirting of water coming out of a crack on the side, down near the bottom. A big puddle on the basement floor.
No surprise, really, that the tank should be giving out. It's old, it was in this big old house out here in the country long before I moved in. In fact the old peeling label on the side of the tank reads "Chicago 9 Illinois." Put that back in the pre-zipcode era!
Fortunately I was able to latch on to a plumber, and he made a trip to obtain a new tank, which he is presently installing down in my basement. With a little help from a few neighbors, who've been very good about helping, and standing by and kibitzing. This is one of the great things about living in a place where neighbors help one another out. And by some time this afternoon, I ought to have running water again.