The Patience of Todd
“Where hast thou come from?”
“From roaming hither and yon throughout the earth and going back and forth within it.”
“Hast thoughy considered my servant, Todd? There is no one on earth likened unto him; he is blameless and upright, a righteous man who doth fear God and shuns plumbing.”
“Does Todd fear God for nothing? Hast Thou not put a hedge around him and the master bath vanity and everything he doth possess? Surely Thou hast blessed the work of his hands, so that his plumbing tape and his tools are spread throughout the land. But stretch out Thy hand and screw with the p-trap, and, lo, he will surely curse you to your face.”
“Very well, then, everything he has is in your hands, but on the man himself thou shalt not lay a finger.” Then Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and handed Todd his ass.
Let us proclaim the mystery of faith starting with: HOW IN THE HELL am I supposed to plumb the depths of the female mind and fix the plumbing at the same time?!
So there I was, the High Powered Man, waking and immediately thinking High Powered Man Thoughts like, “I will totally bet you that I can lay here and not move a muscle and she’ll cave in and get up and make the coffee.” Which she did (score!) and which I drank (score!), and before the second cup uttered ten simple and entirely lethal words: “You know what I’d like you to do for me?”
*sigh
“I promised I would do that, didn’t ? Alright! No rest for the wicked! It’s Saturday! I shall fix your bathroom sink! Everyone—STAND BACK!”
And then something shiny distracted me and the Winter Olympics came on and that was the end of that.
Until the commercial break and I remembered my High Powered Promise to fix the sink. Which she’s been complaining about for several weeks. And which apparently had a fully matured silverback gorilla stuck inside it. Which is almost as close as I’m going to get to describing what I found in it when I took it apart busted the damn thing.
First we gather the High Powered Man’s tools. Then we open up the doors to her vanity and make the sign of the Cross survey the situation. But first we have to pull out a few million toiletries, noting the abundance of what I grew up thinking were pink cigar holders.
[pause for you to catch up]
Cigar holders.
Yeah no. But that’s not what arrests my attention. It’s not like I haven’t waltzed through PMS Katrina and her mother enough to know what those things are, right? No problem there. No, the thing that arrests my attention is the veritable cornucopia of these gentle little glides such that I wonder how in the world it could ever be necessary that I drag my sorry backside to the store for more. Next time I’m presented with that order it’s going to be met with something like, “Yeah dream on. Try looking under your bathroom sink. There’s enough in there to sop up a murder scene. And while you’re at it, root around for Jimmy Hoffa and let us know what you find.”
Vanity cleared of unnecessary Necessary Stuff, I grab a wrench that is older than God. It came from my late uncle Jerry who, if you’ve read the book, was the one who passed away a few years back and who jipped us out of a body to mourn over (cremation shmemation), so me and my cousins went looking for a corpse during the Boring Funeral. True story.
I affix the wrench to the Thing you affix wrenches to on the (I learned this next word on Trip #1 to the hardware store) p-trap. And turned it gently.
And then (I promise I am not making this up) heard metal tear. Don’t believe me, huh? Well, get a load of this.
Begging two questions, I realize.
Question #1) “Todd, you are a moron.”
and Question #2) “Todd, why are you taking photos of this cluster-fudge?”
But I didn’t say “fudge.”
Answer #1) Shut up.
Answer #2) Because I KNEW this was going to be a train wreck. I knew because the certainty I had that this minor plumbing repair job would careen into a ditch was in direct proportion to how minor it was.
So: very minor = God was bored and thought it would be lots and lots of fun to watch Todd prove yet again that that whole evolving from baboons debate was still on the table.
I was smart enough to take the pieces of the p-trap to the hardware store so I could come home with the correct replacement. Which I did.
Almost.
And by ‘almost’ I mean I’d like to find the person who designed these damn things and beat him with a p-trap.
So on Trip #2 to the hardware store, I walk in, note the laughter of the smart-mouth kid working the register who, when I left the store not 20 minutes earlier, yelled out, “See you two more times ha ha!” and told him to burn in hell. “After you come help me find the right part, I mean.”
When I get home I contort myself to fill the inside of the vanity and get the replacement on in no time flat.
Then I turn on the water.
And it works perfectly.
For four seconds.
Then it started leaking in two places, neither of which were leaking prior to any of this.
Oh, wait. I forgot to detail what was clogging the sink: I have no idea what it was but it growled at me.
I take off the (so not publishable) p-trap. Crooked. Fine. Put it back on. Straight.
Still leaks.
Take if off. Put it on. Leaks.
*thinks
No idea.
*swears
New idea! Plumbing tape!
I have plumbing tape! I know because I had enough foresight to BUY plumbing tape on Trip #1!
So I go through about two and a half miles of plumbing tape and wonder what freak mind decided Saran Wrap could be dyed white and sold to idiots like me. I hate that stuff. And now it’s everywhere. On every threaded part of the p-trap, on the wall behind me, in my hair, and in the shower (I threw it).
But it worked. I put the p-trap back on, tightened this, tightened that, and turned on the water.
And it worked.
For four seconds.
Now it leaks from somewhere else entirely and I give up. UP. I decide I need a screwdriver and go in search of vodka. On the way I encounter Cute Redhead who asks how it’s going.
I give her the play-by-play.
And do you know what she says to me? Hm? Do you? She says, “…oh. No, all I needed you to do what use a coat hanger down the drain and clean it out for me.”
Okay…
At this point the two sides of my brain do backflips and trade places.
“Um. What?”
“Yes, you didn’t need to take it apart. When I said ‘my sink is clogged and I need you to fix it’ what I meant was for you to just take a coat hanger and shove it down the drain.”
“Of course. How ever could I mistake ‘my sink is clogged and I need you to fix it’ for anything else?”
And this is where I’m ending this one. Which, I’m sorry to say, is not the end of the story. There was, believe it or not, one more trip to the hardware store last night…and another attempt at the repair this morning (fail).
Best of all? Cute Redhead actually suggested we (I’m going to try and type this with a straight face): try fixing it together.
I laughed my head off.
“lol yeah no. I don’t think topping off Valentine’s Day with a divorce is a good idea, honey. I’m calling the plumber.”
“Well. Tell him my sink is clogged and I need him to fix it.”
“Let’s hope he has a coat hanger.”
Since the first sentence: Go catch a plumber and pay him (A LOT) to do the job. Period.
That must be the New Todd International King James version, as i dont remember reading that. And one other minor issue, Um, I think “Question #1) “Todd, you are a moron.” is actually a statement, but hey, I dont want to pile on.
Believe me…I am. And I’m going to put his children through college.
You have to answer the question in the form of a statement. Thus, “Todd, you are a moron.” Which I realize makes no sense. But then, neither does plumbing.
OH! I see. Sort of like a Jeopardy questiion then. LOL.
Poor Todd. The thought was nice, hilarious as heck, but nice.
So, just to make you feel better….I, too, have a gorilla in my drain. Graham, who happens to be a very manly-man and extremely accomplished at all things handy, (as he spends days-on-end researching all things handy on the internet) had purchased a very specialized tool just for the purpose of dragging aforementioned gorilla from the drain, (which BTW, I don’t think coat hangers are widely recommended). Lots of gorilla chunks came out, however, the drain is still horribly slow. A couple of weeks ago, someone left the water on in this sink….for about 5 hours. Thank the Good Lord for that female hoarding gene that says all FHP must be purchased in quantities of no less than 100, all sizes, all flow measures, all at once. I’d say at least 30% of our little flood was sandbagged by the basket full of “Necessary Stuff,” which is nice….since my bathroom sink is in my bedroom…right next to my bed.
lololololololol “sandbagged.”