I am a simple girl really, I don't need to have to have a lot of fancy things. I would definitely enjoy them and be giddy if I had fancy, but I don't have to have a lot of bells and whistles.

Case in point: When we moved to the mountains years ago, our cabin didn't have a dishwasher. I swore after spending the first 25 years of my life without one, I would never, not have a dishwasher again.

But my husband - in love with the idea of being able to ride Six Gap whenever he wanted from our front door -promised he would wash every dish that was used if we moved into this cabin. I sighed and caved.

Lamar just didn't realize I have an audiographic memory and can remember, with about a 99.99 percent accuracy rate, everything I have ever heard.

That included the "I swear, I will wash the dishes every day. You won't have to wash a dish ever."

Unless of course, Six Gap's calling on a weekend morning and he leaves a sink full of dishes as he pedals off into the sunrise.

So I have lied to myself and said I have a dishwasher - it's just my husband.

But the one thing I cannot live without is plumbing.

God bless the person who invented plumbing and double bless whoever came up with the idea for a hot water heater.

One of my last remaining escapes is a long, hot shower.

At least, until I got in one Thursday night and found the water lukewarm.

Lamar must be washing clothes on hot, I thought.

I checked the washer when I got out.

Nope, cold water.

Had he just washed a lot of dishes? Yes, but it had been hours ago.

This was not sitting well with this gal.

The next morning, the water was almost chilly when I stepped in at 6 a.m.

I shrieked.

That had to be the fastest shower in my history of showers.

Later that day in the grocery store, Lamar announces: "We are out of milk, and I think our hot water heater's dead."

Just like that.

Just as nonchalant as ‘we're out of milk,' he breaks this news to me.

I stopped pushing the buggy and said: "What? Are you sure?"

He nodded.

"Yes, I am sure. That's what happens when you buy too much cereal. I can't decide what I want to eat, so I eat a bowl of each box and the next thing you know, a gallon of milk's gone."

The thought of assaulting him with a pack of chicken crossed my mind. It really, truly did.

"Not the milk. The water heater. Are we gonna need to replace it?"

"Probably," was his droll reply.

The next morning, I glanced at my shower, frowning. No hot shower for me that day. And I am one of those people that if I haven't had my shower, I can't go anywhere. I feel too icky.

"What are we gonna do about the hot water heater?" I asked Lamar as he walked in the kitchen.

"I'll take care of it," he said.

"When?"

"I will. Don't worry."

Keep in mind, Lamar ‘fixed' our bathroom sink; to this day, the thing does not have hot water. He's a paint contractor; not a plumber, and definitely not an electrician.

And then, he sauntered out of the house and pedaled down the driveway in search of a mountain to climb.

I gritted my teeth - I couldn't even wash my cast iron skillet to cook Cole some turkey bacon. I think I said some really bad words.

I called Mama and pitched a hissie and then did what any strong-willed Southern woman would do. I called an electrician.

To my surprise, they called back on a Saturday. I told him the problem and he gave me a pretty dang-close estimate over the phone.

"Can you wait til Monday?" he asked.

"How much is it if you come out on a Saturday?" I inquired.

"It'll save you $20."

The thought of having to wash my hair Sunday night with cold water and then facing Monday without my hot shower made $20 seem like the deal of the day.

"Call me when you're on your way!"

Lamar pedaled down the driveway, seeing the truck a couple of hours later.

"You called someone? Who did you call?"

I didn't say a word. He went inside.

After the electrician left, Lamar looked at me forlornly.

"I was gonna fix it, you know."

Sure he was. But this is how Mama gets things done.

Sudie Crouch is an award winning humor columnist and author of the recently e-published novel, "The Dahlman Files: A Tony Dahlman Paranormal Mystery."