Every day is a new opportunity for something to go wrong. Yes, it's true. It's the age old adage's fault; "If something can go wrong, it will." But take heart, dear reader, because even though every day is an opportunity for something to go wrong, it's also an opportunity to say, "You are not gonna defeat me! I shall smote your wrongness into ruin and be done! Now...away with you." Okay...so no one really talks like that and even if they do, it's probably just in their head.
My house is trying to kill me. Never buy a house, children. I know there are people who push the issue, "Buy!" they say, "Raise a family!" they say.... They never say your crap is gonna break daily and you're gonna have to fix it cause you make a house payment instead of pay rent. They would never say that. Real estate agents aren't born evil. I even know a couple who to this day aren't evil, but a tiny bit of warning that you'll pay and pay and pay some more would have been awesome. Plus, if you're lucky---errr---if lucky is want to call it, your house will come with a yard. You can plant flowers and put up little fences and it will be yours--your own--your precious. Ah, but along with the dying flowers (black thumb syndrome...mine will never be green) you will have grass. Grass grows. This summer I have been absolutely convinced that someone sneaked onto my lawn and covered it in fertilizer then sneaked around and made the lawn mower uber angry, to the point that it would hate me for all the days of my life. I know I have enemies, but sheesh! Couldn't you have shaved my head in my sleep or something? I mean really...that would be so much easier to deal with than the ding dang hayfield that becomes my yard every week. I can't keep an aloe plant alive, but I sure can grow a lush lawn of grass. What the heck is that about?!
I know folks who love mowing. I'll never understand that. Maybe if someone hadn't jacked up the mower I'd like it just a little bit more. Maybe if the top screws wouldn't come out or the dang thing would actually shut off when I tell it to, I wouldn't face the task with such daunting dread. Maybe if I had a nifty zero-turn mower that weed eated (eated? ate?) killed the grass and made me dinner, I wouldn't wanna hijack a concrete truck and "accidentally" spill the contents all up on the grass. I'd complain about the fact that it's 650 degrees in the shade every single time I decide to mow, but I probably shouldn't. That way when it's 10 below zero I can complain about that and no one can say, "Weren't you just griping about it being hot last August?!" This woman is rarely completely content.
Would you believe this blog was supposed to be about a three day clogged pipe incident with witty statements about plungers, bleach and drain cleaner? I think I'll just advise you to rent, not buy, and leave it at that. Get a good landlord. Surely they'll be much easier to get along with than a mortgage company anyway, right?
Thursday, August 18, 2011
When deciding to become a Domestic Engineer, whether by choice or circumstance, it should be necessary to take some sort of course. Only a bit of guidance really; something that could give hints on how to put drawstrings back in pants, kill a spider from 6 feet away...how to fix a leaky sink--ya know...the basics. I'm not saying all would-be house dwellers must take the course, but in this town where jobs are a dime a dozen, (unfortunately the dime has to be the ultra rare 1982 "No P" dime) one can not just call up a seamstress, exterminator or a plumber at any given moment.
Don't get me wrong, I can fix things. I can put drawstrings back in pants with the best of 'em (or at least the second best) and my ultra nifty Home Defense can get some distance, but when it comes to plumbing it's sort of an, "If at first you don't succeed," thing...
I could never be a plumber. I'm sure the nice draft above a drooping pant line would be quite lovely, but frankly I'm not sure I have the patience or the stomach for it. Fortunately, the instance of which I write occurs from beneath the kitchen sink.
Day one: Just a leak. Not a big deal really. A constant drip, drip, drip... I'm thinking I could just tighten this baby up and be done with it. Easy peasy. You believe that, right? If you're familiar in the least with this blog you know how many times in my life "Easy peasy" has fallen into my lap. Three? Four times maybe in 31 years? Yeah...that sounds about right....
After waiting for Adam to get home with the plethora of tools and gadgets he has up in the Jeep, I nab the pliers.. They weren't as awesome as a pipe wrench would have been, but they weren't as lame as say...a screwdriver or a butter knife. They were pretty decent sized and I thought they would fit the bill nicely. And they did. Wielding my fix-it tool and determined to stop the steady drip, I sit myself down in front of the kitchen sink. I can see where it's leaking and a with a little tightening, I should be done in about 45 seconds. Righty, tighty. Lefty, loosey. Oh come on, you can't tell my you don't say that in your head every time you tighten/loosen something. Really. Anyway, as I turned the pliers, the leak became worse. Poop. Okay, so this is a sideways thingy so I turn my head slightly sideways to determine which way was tighten. Finally I figured it out. Ta da!! All fixed! Go me! I'm awesome!
Then, as I retract my pliers, I bump another pipe ever so slightly. Ker-plunk....it comes undone. What the heck?! Okay...No big deal.... ADAM!!!!! He rides his shining stallion into the kitchen (or walks if you don't want to pretend he's a knight, but I'm telling you the imagery is beautiful) and puts my oopsy back together again. It takes a bit of time, but with me as his trusty sidekick we declare the mission a success and move along with the evening.
The next morning I'm making breakfast. Normal day. Yay no drip! lalala..... I go about my day as planned. Laundry, dishes, cleaning off the vast amount of stuff Nathan has brought into the living room...the normal stuff. Around lunch time I hear it. My heart sank. Drip...drip...drip. So like any self respecting fix-it chick would do, I took up my pliers (luckily they had been left in the house) and ventured into the kitchen. Cautiously I look beneath the sink--CRAP!! Would you believe (and I know you will) that it's the pipe that was leaking before?! Remember folks--if at first you don't succeed (yadda, yadda, yadda...chances are I should just wait until Adam gets home). So, I start tightening the pipe--again. And just as I finish, I hit another pipe. This wasn't the same pipe Adam fixed the previous night. I suppose that's what got me the most. If it had been his pipe, I probably wouldn't have been so annoyed at myself.
So, I fixed the pipe that I broke while fixing the pipe that I fixed the night before when I broke the other pipe.
Later that night I unclogged the bathroom sink. I call into the living room, "I fixed the bathroom sink!" In reply I hear a resounding, "NOOOOOOOO!!"