Last night was an exercise in finding the silver lining.

My yoga teacher is leaving for Israel on Saturday, so I thought I’d try to squeeze in an extra class, even though it meant arriving 30-minutes late despite serious hustling.  I finally pulled up to her subdivision, impatient, harried, breathless…very non-yogic.

A new guard was sitting attentively in the guardhouse, spit-polished and serious.

The regular guard and I are old buddies by now. He always lets me in without checking.

The new guard did not.

He tried calling my teacher.  Repeatedly.  Naturally, she didn’t answer because…duh!…she was already conducting the class.

I finally left, exasperated.

I arrived home an hour earlier than planned.  I used the extra time to catch up on my side work, balance my checkbook, answer emails.  I’d just begun boiling water to make a pot of couscous when something popped upstairs – a small explosion, a vaguely familiar sound, like a champagne cork.

Then came an unmistakable sound: the onslaught of rushing water.

I raced upstairs to discover that somehow, the hot water handle had exploded, sending little faucet pieces flying everywhere.  A hot water gusher, a mini-Old Faithful, was re-creating itself all over the kids’ bathroom.

So like the Little Dutch Boy and his dike, I shoved my finger in the hole, plugging it up enough to slow down the geyser to a trickle, water streaming around and down into the sink instead of spraying everywhere (there is certainly a double entendre quality to this whole sentence, isn’t there?).

But now I was stuck.  I had no idea how to turn the water off.  I couldn’t leave to search for the valve without the gusher recommencing.  I couldn’t even reach a towel, being the vertically-challenged person that I am.  And the hot water was friggin’…hot.  Ow.

The silver lining: I’d had the presence of mind to bring my phone with me.

I called The Ex.  No answer.  So I called my handy neighbor, who was on his way home, less than 2 minutes away.  He rushed over immediately, bearing many tools.

Another silver lining: I’d left my front door unlocked so he could walk in.

He showed me how to turn off the water and then gleefully stripped my faucet.  It seems an unbreakable interior metal sleeve…broke.  Yes, a clean and complete break, right into two twisted, jagged pieces.

So today I’ll be faucet-shopping.  Sigh.  More money down the drain, literally.

But wait!  That wasn’t all.

When my neighbor arrived, I placed my phone on top of the staircase to fetch towels.  You can guess what happened when we were finished and descending the stairs.

Yup.  Full metal launch, up, over, out, down.  Crash, bang, scatter.  Phone parts everywhere.

Silver lining #3:  Even though I have the world’s cheapest phone, it’s as sturdy as hell.  Once I recovered and reinserted the battery, the damned phone worked absolutely perfectly.

Shortly thereafter, the Ex dropped by unannounced to inspect the damage, helping me peel back soggy carpet and prop it so it could dry, promising to replace my faucet, showing me how to measure properly.

After mopping up the mess and throwing in the towels (literally; they needed cleaning), I decided I should head to bed, calling a halt to the disastrous evening.   I had just washed my face and was settling in with the always-comforting Criminal Minds (which somehow has become my late-night addiction) when I heard screaming and caterwauling followed by a loud crash downstairs.

Apparently, the cats did battle on my dining room table.  My candles and holders were the losers.

Sigh.  Again.

As I swept up the shards, I started chuckling, a tad hysterically.  I mean, really…what a night.

More silver linings in the midst of madness:

If I’d gone to yoga, I wouldn’t have been home for the faucet explosion.  My house would have flooded.

I have wonderful, helpful, kind, generous neighbors.

My ex is always surprising me. He comes through even when I don’t ask.

I have a badass phone.  I originally chose it because it was cheap and red.  But it survives and endures any abuse I throw at it..or throw it at.

Now I know where the valves are…and I’m not afraid to use them.

Even my regretful cat rewarded me, post-candle mortem, with an apologetic arm bath before stretching out alongside me, smiling.  I fell asleep to his soft, rhythmic purring in my ear.

Plus I have to admit….

I never liked that faucet: way too fussy.  My candles were nubs: time to replace them.  My kids’ bathroom floor: now sparkling clean.  My relationships: proven solid and true, including the ones with my cats.

All’s well that ends well.