Sunday, September 07, 2008

Plumbing the Secret of Life

Sunday night in the Master Bedroom--Don’t let the dateline fool you; this is not an article to tantalize your prurient interests. I have arrived at the place where I am most vulnerable to temptation, and am at my weakest:
Facing a plumbing repair.
On the weekend.
With no hardware stores open.

Yeah, great way to cap off a weekend: fixing a stubborn toilet fixture on Sunday night.

You know the drill, don’t you?
Getting ready for a big week ahead.
Getting ready for bed.
Doing the toilet thing…and you flush…and the handle comes off in you hand.

I would rather have to jam a plunger clear to China than have to face fixing a toilet on a Sunday night.

I think the plumbing gods knew this when I was born.
“Here’s a sucker,” they laughed to one another.
“We will confound his thinking and put stumbling blocks in his way by creating multiple-sized fittings, and cursing the PVC fixtures in his house with stripped threads and rounded corners on all critical parts,” they gurgled back and forth on Mt. American Standard.
Or was it Mt. Kohler?

All my life, my patience has been tested, and at times my language tinged by the plumbing puzzles thrown my way.
I should be able to field-strip and re-assemble a toilet valve fixture blind folded, with one arm pinned behind my back. I’ve felt that way many times, trying to repair a leaky valve, noisy tank, or in tonight’s exciting episode, a broken flush lever.

Who in their right mind would mount a toilet in a space with about three inches clearance either side of a wall? I know, I know…some rich architect who can afford to pay a plumber to come out and fix it for him.

On a Sunday night?
I doubt it.

Here is one chore that’s going to just have to fester until Monday afternoon, after I’ve had time to finish my planned appointments with important people and places doing constructive things…then I’ll trudge into the plumbing aisle of the hardware store and fall on the mercy of the shop keeper there.

I’ll probably buy two of everything, because with my record, nothing ever works the first time. Can you feel me?

Thanks for reading.
This was very therapeutic for me.

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