every couple who owns an old house has a plumbing story. this is ours.
the time: opening day, 2008. the place: our basement.
my mother lives with us. on opening day last year, she woke me up at 7am to tell me the toilet in the downstairs bathroom had overflown. when she was taking the towels downstairs she had used to wipe up, she noticed the pipe was dripping water. great. mom went off to work, and i got up to find a plumber. brian continued to snore.
when you are first starting out, you have yet to establish a "go to" list of various service personnel - plumbers, furnace fixers, electricians, tree trimmers, etc. so i called my dad and he suggested we try dick scott plumbing (you may have seen their ads - a toilet that has the caption "have a seat on us!").
around 10 brian left for opening day and i was left to wait for the plumber. to make a long story short, the second plumber who came opened the clean-out in the basement pipe. sewage literally flew out, erupting like an alien from a stomach, covering the unsuspecting plumber, the walls, and the floor. i was mortified. it disturbs me that there is a plumber who drives past our house and thinks, "there's the shit house".
the poor plumber worked on our pipe and eventually brian came stumbling through the front door. he also was remorseful towards the plumber, offering him everything from a tshirt to potato chips and beer. i told brian to shut up and go sit down. he had unfortunately brought two friends home with him to finish watching the game. they held their noses politely for about 20 minutes until they ran for the hills.
finally the plumber asked if it would be alright if he came back tomorrow. i said sure, then made brian drive to target with me to procure a variety of cheap mops, sponges, and sterilizing agents. i wiped down walls and brian was in charge of mopping, which he was not doing to my, uh, satisfaction. and i was already kind of testy. i yelled, i screamed, i was mean. brian stomps off to take some stuff out to the trash and never comes back. eventually, i go through the house calling for him. no brian. the cars were both in the driveway, so i wonder if he got pissed and walked somewhere.
you know where he was? passed out on the couch in front of the tv. bastard.
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this story might even be better the second time around.
ReplyDeletehm. Ours was the night I was in labor with Lily. About 1 am. He was sleeping ("so he'd have enough energy to support me when I was REALLY in pain." right.) The main water pipe that comes into the house from the well burst and started flooding the utility room. I was too giant (and, uh, IN LABOR) to fit behind the water heater to turn off the water. I ran into the bedroom to wake him up, yelling, about pipes breaking and water everywhere. He mumbled something about having plenty of time to get to the hospital and rolled over. Once I finally got him up, he went back to bed after fixing the pipe and throwing down the towels. I had another 20 or so hours of labor to go.
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