Posts Tagged ‘ plumber ’

Searching For An Untroubled Plumber

Thursday, September 12th, 2013

The Sink That Started The Frantic Search

Here’s why I need a plumber.

Bill’s car died and has to be hauled off to a Car Cemetery.

Bill tripped over his feet and fell flat with a thud on the patio. I thought the thud was his head, but it turns out it’s his elbow which is black and blue. He smarts in many places but the good thing is his back was hurting for 3 months and now that pain is gone. We think the fall gave him an adjustment.

The drain in Bill’s kitchen sink is plugged up clear to the back wall and we need a plumber.

So. Now I am Bill’s chauffeur and he has to wash his many dishes in my sink, in my house. However, the body wreckage he’s suffered doesn’t affect me thank goodness, as I have my own.

Our first order is to find a plumber. The car burial can come later.

The plumber I always use is not returning my calls. I believe he has run off. My guts say his wife left him. I am sorry about that, but I can’t fix him and obviously, he’s not emotionally able to drain Bill’s sink and clear the pipes. He may be drunk some where, I don’t know.

Bill gets out the town’s yellow pages and begins the hunt for a good plumber.

As I am his landlordess, I give him instructions.

“Get the Senior Rate. Get a plumber who doesn’t charge to come out and look. Ask me before you choose one as I have lived in this town a long time and know a lot of people.”

Bill doesn’t want my instruction. He curls his lips and gets to work. From the other side of the door I hear him drop the yellow pages and turn to his computer. He’s making calls in his Studio. These darn walls are way too thin.

My brother Jim comes over to nap on my living room couch. (Oh come on now, I haven’t time to explain that one. I’m trying to tell you about looking for a plumber.)

Bill raps on the door between his studio and my house. He comes into my Great Room and says, “Hi Jim. OK. This guy I called will do the drain for $80 and he’s asking questions about the leak in your tub faucet and what else you want done.”

“Who is he?” I ask.

“What does it matter who he is?!”

“I may know him,” I say.

Bill turns and goes into his place and I follow.

“It’s Dan Donovan Plumbing, if you must know,” he says.

“Not him!” I yell.

“Why?”

“I can’t remember why. I just know I have a down feeling about it, some memory in the past.”

Bill snorts.

Then, I notice he’s on the phone.

“Ah..I’ll call you back,” he says and hangs up.

Darn. Why didn’t he tell me he was talking to the man?

“You can always do this yourself you know!” Bill snarls.

He gets all irritated and comes back into my house with the phone book.

Jim shouts from the couch, “Who? Dan Donovan!? He ripped me off! He charged me an extra hundred dollars and then left shit everywhere in my place! ”

“Oh,” Bill says as he turns around and goes back into his studio. (more…)

How I Blew Up My Bathroom Sink

Tuesday, February 7th, 2012

 

"My Bathroom Sink Before I Blew It Up." http://www.artmojos.com

This morning I’ve blown my bathroom sink apart.

It is quite a surprise.

Here’s how it goes.

I have an art deco type, fluted glass sink. It sits on top of the tiled bathroom counter and is pleasing to look at. It is moulded to look like a huge, luminous blue flower rising open-mouthed toward the indifferent burnished copper faucet above it.

The sink was very expensive. It makes a statement. It makes the bathroom. It’s a beautiful and wondrous and overpriced extravagance but everybody needs at least one outrageous, nonsensical, illogical extravagance don’t you think?

I have to stand on my toes to use this sink  and even then I often clank my elbows on its undulating glass edges.

Its lithe inner neck is attached to a pipe and hidden under the countertop but like an unrelenting sinus condition the pipe is always clogged.

The sink is a gorgeous delicate Being, but I don’t like it. It is uncomfortable to use and it barely drains. Nothing I’ve used clears the blockages and I’ve even used human plumbers.

This morning I have had enough of the sink’s peculiarities and quirks. I have in hand a very large jug of poison gel that is guaranteed to scrub clean the most recalcitrant pipes.

The instructions say to pour the burning goo down the drain and let it sit for one half hour. Then I am instructed to run hot water down the pipe.

This is a problem.

I can never get the water to run long enough to get it hot enough because the water won’t drain from the beautiful sink. The water fills to the brim and then sits sullenly, threatening to rush over the lips of the blue beauty.

But…suddenly, I have an excellent and even brilliant idea. I will heat the water on the kitchen stove and pour that down the drain. (more…)

Mother and the Plumber

Friday, September 11th, 2009

I’m sitting outside on the patio under a leafy tree at my favorite coffee shop, talking with Alan.

Alan is an architect who has been helping my brother Jim with his restaurant project. Alan has long gray/blonde hair that hangs in a messy horse’s tail down his back. He flicks the hot ash from his Camel cigarette and says, “When Jim was at my house one day, the water in the kitchen faucet turned on by itself and I said, ‘What the heck?’

“Then,” he continues, “awhile later another faucet downstairs turns on and starts a flood and again I said, ‘What the heck? Are there spirits around here trying to tell us something?'”

Alan pauses and sucks his white Camel like a doobie.

“I thought, ‘Does this mean this whole project with Jim’s new restaurant is big money down the drain?'”

“Hmmm,” I say.

Jim and Alan, after a year of trying to get a loan and borrowing money from friends and family to build a new restaurant, have been denied. The banks tease but they just won’t loan. Jim is caught up in the collapse of the economy. He’s now at home with the cotton blankets pulled over his head, in the musky dark and in despair.

Alan breathes some smoke and I breathe some smokey air.

We are both silent. Because of his illness and the economy, my brother Art may lose his jewelry shop which is right next door to the coffee shop and the coffee shop itself is teetering on the edge of extinction.

When I go home, I tell my ex, Bill, about Jim.

Bill says, “Sometimes I wake up in the night and I wonder who I am. I wonder where I am. Am I back in my childhood or am I forward in time somewhere? Am I on another planet? It takes me awhile to remember who I am and what part of my life I’m in. It’s hard to get re-oriented, but once I do, I’m OK.” (more…)


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