Tribal Plumbing

September 28, 2005


My husband is my hero. He valiantly slays dragons, hunts food and protects the homestead for us. He pounces on exploding toilets, evacuates the Pfluftagus and kills the bugs without complaining. He is the best.

But jews really shouldn’t mess with plumbing. It never works out well.

That exploding toilet from before Rita? He figured out what was wrong, went to Lowe’s the other day to get the proper components and was ready (and excited!) to fix that toilet last night.

And I cheered him on with cautious optimism because, really, how sexy is that?

The first sign of trouble was when we didn’t know which direction to turn a piece to loosen it. After several attempts, I remembered the old “righty-tighty-lefty-loosey” pneumonic and we got it off.

Then we didn’t have the right (very large) expandable wrench thing. Okay, no biggee. Off to Lowe’s. The next issue was needing a new valve of some sort… and, maybe, some pipe. Uh, off to Lowe’s again.

There was some concern that the pipe wasn’t going to be long enough. It was. Whew. However, the Very Important Pipe that comes out of the wall and into the potty? Bent. And, dripping. Pfft.

That’s it for me, folks! You’ve been a terrific audience! Tip your waitresses — Good Night!

And so, Justin The Plumber is coming today to fix our Very Broken and Very Disassembled Potty…and check the other one just in case. And, maybe, look at that annoying dripping bathtub faucet that squeeeeaaaals incessantly.

I will cook dinner for my husband, kiss and thank him and ask him to valiantly open that bottle of white chilling in the fridge.

He worked hard, my hero. L’chaim!

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