Why, you ask?
Here's the backstory.
2:00 pm Friday. I walk into the garage to rotate my laundry from the washer to the dryer. Hmmm. What's that weird sound? Walk around the water heater, see dripping. Lots of dripping. Aaargh! Can't find valve to just shut off water to heater, so shut off water to whole house. Shut off gas to water heater. Text Chad, find plumber available on Friday afternoon before a holiday weekend. Ugh. Go to wash hands, but alas, the water is turned off. Have to use ice cubes to wash hands. I still needed to rotate my laundry into the dryer, after all.
2:45pm Saturday. Text from Chad, who was off on a ride: "Crashed in the dirt. I think I can make it home, but will need help when I get there. 2:00pm" Apparently he crashed pretty hard, but was out of texting range, so I didn't get this message until he had ridden almost all the way home. Spouse arrives home around 3, bleeding and covered in dirt, and it didn't take long to decide that the cleanup job was going to be better done in the emergency room with some anesthetic, due to there being a big gouge in his elbow, as well as a lot of dirt replacing the skin of knee, hip, and shoulder.
(The drugs, really.)
When you answer the question "What were you doing when the injury happened?" with "I was trying to fly my bike," some medical personnel are flummoxed.
The poor guy is better today, but still pretty sore. And we have working hot water. You can, however, see why I watched the clock with some trepidation through the early afternoon today...