It's harder than it looks.
I‘m not the world’s most inept handyman. That would be my mentally-challenged twin Duane, who this morning rose early to fix a leaking shower faucet and spent the remainder of the day cursing and stripping nuts with a crescent wrench and mopping up water and purchasing valves that turned out to be just a teeny bit different from what was required. A job that might normally take 20 minutes ended up taking about five hours, counting trips to the hardware store. Technically it’s still not over, since Duane should probably return a certain $12 valve instead of throwing it with a guttural scream into the neighbor’s yard.
Duane has done some damage over the years. Once he undertook to fix a used-but-still-serviceable washing machine. A few hours later, he was tipping it from the back of his pickup into the local landfill. Another time, years ago, he thought to cover an entire kitchen wall in Z Brick®. Duane still remembers the noise Z Brick® makes when it falls to the floor in the middle of the night.
Duane once owned a Sears Craftsman lawnmower that was hard to start. After pondering the problem and employing all the skills as his disposal, Duane transformed it into a lawnmower that was impossible to start. It soon joined the washing-machine in the graveyard of good intentions.
One day, Duane may dump his tools in there as well. But for now, there’s a strange silence that is making him forget the travails of the day, that may, against all reason, lead him to consider other ill-advised projects in the future. It is the silence of the shower faucet. No longer dripping.
Worshiping at the First Church of Steve
Sooner or later, it’ll be time to move
The goodness that is ‘Breaking Bad’
Guns, gates and paranoia
For Petula, whenever I may find her
I seem to recall Duane’s attempt at fixing the bathroom plumbing that resulted in a response from the fire department — all vividly simulcast to Duane’s amused co-workers via the police scanner. If it’s any consolation to Duane, I turned off the hot water to my bathroom sink years ago to “solve” a dripping faucet.
Well, as they say: I can laugh about it now. It’s funny that you remember it too. From that day forward, I swore off any attempt to solder in an enclosed space.
I suppose I remember it because there was a classic Jeff Herman “gotcha” involved the next day (you were not amused, as I recall). I give you points for the attempt at soldering — I stay away from anything involving a flame. Or raw sewage.