Full Disclosure: A Cautionary Tale

Our doorbell has been out of commission for months and it has not phased me one bit. 

Fully embracing my inner shut-in, I am not at all anxious that I have missed any truly important visitors, like the angelic Girl Scout cookie peddlers or an unannounced Oprah ambush. I may have even avoided uncomfortable interactions with dreaded door-to-door salesfolk, wandering environmentalists and the occasional drive-by serial killer. 

Weeks ago, Aquarion Water Company must have come a’calling—and since I am visitor-proof, they left an urgent notice on our doorknob. By the way, nothing says *urgent* like a white luggage tag on the front door. I was instructed to contact the company immediately regarding a water leak on our property. 

Most people would have called Aquarion pronto to get to the bottom of the bad news. Instead, I decided to marinate in the information and torment myself with a visual loop of worst-case scenarios. How bad could it be with no signs of a leak, no water pooling anywhere and no noticeable increase to our water bill? 

Excavation dream team. #Heroes. Credit: Susan Gelvin

Aquarion refused to be ignored, sending a big white van to pay me a visit. They really stepped it up from the white door tag. This time, the dog alerted me to the vehicular presence in the driveway, and that is where I met my fate. I perp-walked out to the technician feeling rather guilty. After a boots-on-the-ground consultation, I was asked a question that no one in New Canaan is prepared to answer in the affirmative: Do you have water line safety valve insurance? 

Ummm, no. You mean those silly letters that I throw away every month and say, “Ha, what sucker buys safety valve insurance?” It was made very clear why the insurance is worth the investment and it was painful. All of the sudden, I had become the New Canaan version of Diane Keaton’s character from “Baby Boom,” and was quite literally, drowning in homeownership hell.

While the technician could detect the general presence of our leak with some sixth (non)sense, we were responsible for pinpointing its exact whereabouts, excavating, patching the damage and re-landscaping. 

The gusher. Credit: Susan Gelvin

Also problematic was the massive Tennessee Gas Line that crosses our front yard, serves most of the Eastern Seaboard, and requires extreme caution when digging around. 

That said, I was quoted up to $10,000 if my leak hide-and-seek project was major. This was not what I had bargained for when I threw away all of those safety valve insurance mailers. 

The morning of the “big dig,” my property was littered with vans, excavators, trucks, flags, cones and a lively team of men at work. My South of the Y neighbors, who routinely walk their dogs past my home, had mouths agape as they strolled by. Like owls swiveling their heads all the way around, they tried to figure out what was going on from down the street and around the bend. I received messages wondering what kind of crime I had committed (they know me too well), or if I was putting in a neighborhood hot tub (ah, wouldn’t that be lovely). Nope, I was busy employing half of Southern Connecticut to miraculously find a hole in our waterline without tearing up the entire yard, nicking the gas line and blowing up all of New Canaan. 

Thankfully, I hired an excavator who had the underground ESP of a gopher. With certainty, he sensed that the leak was right by our foundation—and with the luck of the Irish, bingo. We had a mini-geyser exactly where the expert had deduced with his Aquaman superpowers. It took every ounce of self-control not to jump into the muddy hole and do a jig. The excavator charged me thousands less than what I had feared and he quite possibly saved most of New Canaan from certain, explosive danger. What a relief.

So when New Canaanites instinctively go to throw those pipeline insurance mailers away, do yourselves all a favor and sign up for protection. It’s on my to-do list, and hopefully, I will follow through before our next geyser. But first, I have decided to get our front doorbell fixed, just in case the Tennessee Gas Line people ever detect a leak. That is a visit I do not want to miss. Ever.