I have a lot to share about my summer. A lot of fun, nice things. But since this is so fresh on my mind and has left me temporarily scarred, I will go ahead and share this first so I can get on with the healing process.
My summer has been a blur of busyness! But, life has a way of inserting its quirkiness ~ like it or not. In this case it was a
"NOT". Our glorious old bathroom ~ the one that you have to drop an A-bomb on to begin remodel ~ had an on-curring tub faucet leak. One that was so bad I threatened the no-no word: Nag. We already had a new faucet, so let's get this thing on! That's what I "suggested". So, my trusty, feisty handyman, Ben, decided to tackle the beast. He is after all, fearless when it comes to this old house. And. . . he decided to tackle it in the late, very late, afternoon, on a Sunday. Not a good idea me thinks. He did, however ~ in his defense ~ buy some supplies beforehand. But you know life ~ it has a mean sense of humor, and we didn't have all we needed. Not feeling his own brute strength he (he being Ben, the Man, the Beast) turned a pipe wrench, or some kind of tool, a little too hard, hit the hot water line breaking it in half. Before anyone downstairs could register what his screams were about, approximately 300 gallons of water (in his - being Ben's guesstimate) spilled onto the floor (in the scary closet that only grown, brave men will venture into, behind our glorious old bathroom) and down onto the porch below. What occurred next was a mixture of "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly", and "The Three Stooges". (I can say that now because the pain has subsided somewhat). Ben has a shop vac attachment trying to funnel the water into a bucket and dump it into the tub. Not a pretty sight. He bolts down two flights of stairs, to the basement to shut off the main valve (of which there appeared to be several ), only to bolt back up two flights of stairs to find out his efforts were futile. By the time Bob and I made it to the bathroom, to say he was irritated and hysterical would be an understatement. After a couple of trips, Bob finally found the correct shut off valve and the meltdowns began. Oh yeah, I had one. Outside. Away from the pain of water damage and the frustration of a self proclaimed plumber. Poor Kelly tried to console me, but to no avail. Ben, the Man, the Beast, had one in our glorious old bathroom with the scary closet. Everyone else looked like deer caught in the headlights. Afraid to move, afraid to speak. Not pretty. No ma'am.
In retrospect, Sunday probably was a good day to have this "catastrophe", since Bob and Kelly had work on Monday. Less folk in the house. Needless to say, Mr. Handyman had to get up a the butt crack of dawn to get to Lowe's to get the rest of his supplies (he was a trooper ~ and he had to make more than one trip). God love this boy's soul! He made me stay with him in that glorious old bathroom for moral support. I wasn't allowed to offer up much opinion ~ I just had to be a live, breathing body in the same room. And on occasion, I was allowed to hand him some kind of tool, or plumbing stuff, or the faucet, or a drink. It's hard work being a plumber's helper! The girls were real troopers. Hope and Rease kept Helena and Piper busy. Thank the Lord for them! That was one less thing for me to worry about.
So, it's been about two weeks (seems like five minutes ago) and we have a new tub faucet, free of leaks and quite cute in that old glorious bathroom. Now to fix the leak in the sink. . . . . .
Are "A-bombs" illegal?
