That's the sound that woke me up Saturday night. Seems the main water shutoff valve blew right off the pipes, in pieces. I had a mini-geyser in the corner of the bathroom.
No way to get at the water shutoff in the meter pit, buried under frozen snow. So I looked over the outdoor hoses, brought in for the winter. I whacked the female end off a twenty-five-footer with my trusty Spyderco Endura, took the spray nozzle off the male, and put that end in the shower so the water would go down the drain.
With the hose unobstructed, I could push the cut end over the copper pipe stub coming up through the floor. Add a stainless steel hose clamp from my car-repair supplies, and we now have basic control of the situation.
All that was left was to fold the hose so I could reattach the spray nozzle. Voila! Leakage stopped. I now have an indoor garden hose that will reach to anything that's supposed to have running water until I can get to the home-improvement store in the morning to get real repair parts.
But wait! This hose will also reach to all the places I wish had running water, but don't.
So one trip to Menards and a few hours' futzing later, I have a new shutoff valve and a new handy-dandy garden hose bib in the house.
What, you mean everyone doesn't have a garden hose hanging on their bathroom wall?
* This kind of crap is pretty much the story of my life these days. Hence the near-nonexistent blogging.