After many months of spousal abuse (and an “incident” involving my visiting brother), I finally agreed to help fix the leaky bathroom sink yesterday. Wife, bless her, had spent a considerable amount of time trying to get this seemingly intractable problem resolved. (The correct part wasn’t in stock, they stopped making that kind of stopper, etc.) We looked at the problem and decided to saw down a plastic tubing to fit, using a crappy handsaw that contributed mightily to a retirement due to carpal tunnel. And then we had to saw it down some more.
I thought I had finally figured out how to replace the right parts, get a good seal, and make the damn thing work. But it didn’t, of course, try as I might over the course of two hours. This was just one of two sinks, by the way. Due to my incompetence, the other sink came apart, doubling our troubles.
Over the next 20 minutes, I lamented in colorful language my inability to perform basic house repairs, using such rhetorical tricks as “I am the biggest fuckup in the world!” and “What the fuck was I thinking? I can’t do this shit!” and “Goddamn fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!” while striking a wall with an open hand.
As I lay plumbing
Wife, again bless her, opened up the phonebook. “Let’s call a plumber,” she said, and I, having surrendered both physically and mentally, called the specialist. He came over in about an hour. The man had a moustache that did not flatter him and an Eastern European accent that indicated the man had been a nuclear physicist back in the old country. The plumber fixed it quickly and professionally and expensively. A leak reappeared but they came over this morning and fixed it, for free.
Besides learning several valuable lessons about self-loathing, hand-eye coordination, and the profound inability to use a pipe wrench, I realized that for the same reasons the plumber makes a living with water malfunctions, so will I probably always be able to find work due to writing malfunctions.
I know many people in executive positions whose skill with the written word approaches my skill in home repair; which is to say, almost none. As long as there are executives, I will have employment.
I was rather grateful to make this profound discovery. It gave me a sense of self-worth while easing the sting of the plumber’s bill, which, as Wife pointed out, could pay for a plane ticket. I was also grateful, because it gave me something to blog that was at least tangentially related to writing.
Also, I’m going to AWP. But I don’t want to write about it.
LOL. My husband and I had a similar experience early in our marriage that involved hanging wallpaper in the bathroom. Stupid, stupid idea.
Fast forward many years, and it was “installing a Solatube in only two hours using simple household tools!” Right.
The moral: plumbers, wallpaper hangers, and carpenters need to make a living, too. Don’t deny them. And remember, call them BEFORE you make yourself and your whole household crazy.
AILP – that would make for an interesting t-shirt provided you had the right graphic.
My house still bears the painting scars of my husbands handy work!!!
I find this acceptable, as you live in a different country than I do. Should you, however, move to Toronto, then you would be deemed competition. As such, I would have to kill you. I hope you understand.
And by ‘kill’ I mean ‘complain vociferously about’…
~EP: Wallpaper is Exhibit A in the home improvement cult, in which Home Depot et. al. convince the public that they can DO IT just buy our shit. I’ve learned my lesson.
~Glitzy: An “As I Lay Plumbing” T-shirt? Faulkner is spinning in his grave.
~Michelle: Husbands are doomed to fail when it comes to at least one home improvement.
~sic: If I were ever to plant stakes in the GTA, I’d probably stick to American Companies, as I’m an American Writer, who doesn’t spell things like colour and with no knowledge of Canadian Biz except for what I’ve read about Boy Staunton’s exploits in The Deptford Trilogy.
So don’t kill me, please, I’m a sensitive soul.
Bro’ thanks for stopp’en by my little spot…
plumbing, hell I now know why they make so much…they earn it, I think I have learned my limits…
and still the upstairs bath is a mess…
stop back by anytime!
JQP
I find a well-placed “F-bomb” discharges the anger associated with home repair.
Plumbers charge more than doctors. I think we should have plumbing insurance.
~GTJ: words well spoken on plumbing from someone heading for the crapper.
interesting bonus factoid: Crapper is the name of a British plumbing supply company, from which the word “crap” supposedly originated. No shit.
~LBB: i actually have plumbing insurance, called MasterCard.
Sounds like me. I am def. handyman challenged. Except I usually end up hitting the wall with a closed fist and adding “Drywall repair” to my honey-do-when-you-calm-down-and-stop-acting-like-a-baby list.