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WATER WATER EVERYWHERE

April 25, 2015

Way back in the Fall of ‘14 when the grass was green and lush, I noticed a dripping faucet in the bathroom.  I did what I always do with matters of home maintenance… I told my husband.  He’s somewhat of a jack of all trades and can fix most anything if he puts his mind to it.

“The bathroom faucet is leaking…”  I said.

Jim sighed and grumbled something unintelligible.

A month or so later, we found ourselves in our local Menard’s on a completely unrelated mission.  We passed by the bathroom faucets en route to the check-outs.   (That might have been intentional on my part).

“Oh, look!  Bathroom faucets… c’mon, let’s look…”  I said, infusing my speech with surprise.

“It’s fine.  It’ll last a long time yet.”  Jim  mumbled.

“No, no, no… let’s buy one today so we have it on hand.  Just in case.”

His sigh was accompanied by his trademark unintelligible grumbling.

I steered him down the appropriate aisle and asked “Which one should we get?”

A bigger sigh escaped him.  “I don’t care… maybe that one,”  he opined, gesturing toward any one of a dozen models.

At home, the shiny new faucet took up prominent residence on the kitchen counter.  About a week later it moved to a more central point;  the dining room table.  To get anywhere in our house, you have to walk through the dining room.  Surely he would see it and swap the faucets out, I thought.

Now, I’m not usually one to nag, but I have been known to make the occasional exception… “When are you going to put in that new faucet?  That drip is getting worse.’

“I don’t know… when I get the time, I suppose.”  He said during a commercial break.

Yet another week passed.  The faucet mysteriously appeared on Jim’s recliner.  Within the hour, it moved back to the dining room table, presumably of its own accord.

Some time later, perhaps around Thanksgiving, the faucet was demoted and banished to the dank basement where it was stored in the most logical place… near the home repair tools and plumbing supplies.

I sighed, resigned to the fact that it would not be installed on my timetable.

Fall turned to Winter.  Winter turned to Spring (2015).  The grass was visible, but sparse and mostly brown.  It was the third week of April, roughly two and a half weeks after Easter.

Jim took a shower one quiet Thursday evening, then grabbed and loaded his toothbrush, opening the spigot with his free hand.

Water pressure propelled the single-handed unit across the room in an upward arc.  Water gushed forth uncontrollably.  Our bathroom faucet was now a geyser!

I was in the living room, concentrating on properly uploading our church newsletter to the website.

The dogs barked.

I looked up, wondering if I’d heard a noise coming from the other room (besides the dogs).  I cocked my head to one side and listened closer.  Was that Jim calling me?

At any rate, the dogs were still barking so I went to investigate.  As I walked through the kitchen and into the dining room, I heard a faint voice calling “Hello…”  with no apparent urgency.  He might have been talking on the phone for all I knew.

I quickened my pace.

The tiny bathroom was a sight to behold:  my rather tall middle-aged husband, clad in red skivvies, was standing in front of the vanity with both hands clamped down on what was left of the faucet.  Water spewed between his clenched fingers, spilling into the nearly full basin below.

I paused to take it all in.

“Hello…”  He said quietly.  “Can you shut the water off?”

I dropped to the floor, scrambled to Ground Zero and yanked supplies from the cupboard, tossing them behind me, hopefully to dry land.

Luckily, the shut-off valves weren’t corroded.  Both hot and cold turned easily and within seconds the flow of water ceased.

“It’s a good thing it didn’t blow when we were in town today,”  Jimbo stated, his words laced with relief.

“Could that have happened?”  I asked.

“Oh, yeah… there’s pressure on the faucet all the time.”  Jim knowingly replied.

“Well, aren’t you glad I was home to help you?”  I teased.

His machismo kicked in.  “I would have just let go & shut the water off myself,  I could have handled it.”

“Then you would have had an even bigger mess to clean up.”  I calmly replied.  “At any rate, I’m really glad it happened to you and not me!”  I exclaimed.  “You should be, too, by the way”  I said, leveling him with ‘the look’ reserved for the most special of occasions.

That shiny new faucet once again claimed a prominent place upon the table where it spent a mere sixteen hours before it was permanently installed.

The installation process went smoothly.  It was uncharacteristically quiet… I heard no foul language (and I was listening).  Every single word Jim uttered could have been spoken aloud in Sunday School.

As I stated before, Jim can fix almost anything…  when he’s in the mood.

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6 Comments
  1. We have a leaky shower! I can hear it all night long.. drip, drip, drippity-drip. We can’t turn the handles tight enough anymore. My husband keeps telling me he’s going to take care of it and can fix just about anything too… we’re just busy every weekend with kids sports. He better be on the receiving end of that mess and not me when things go badly… 🙂

    Flop
    https://flipflopseveryday.wordpress.com/

  2. Thanks for taking the time to read my blog & comment. Good luck with your shower!

  3. Greg Frosig permalink

    Jim is a celebrity! Next time I see him I will only be able to picture the impression you have painted through this excerpt for your next book. 😊😃

    Sent from my iPhone

    >

  4. Good thing you have Jim to fix that mess eventhough it takes forever to get him on the mood to replace the faucet. Anyway, for some who don’t have their own jim especially in the Oakland, San Francisco, Lafayette and the surrounding areas you can count and rely on them – Plumbers Oakland Ca.

  5. Thanks for reading my blog!

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