Things I’m Thinking About While Waiting for the Plumber
I’m waiting for the plumber.
Where is the plumber?
It is 2:35.
The plumber was supposed to be here between 2:00 and 3:00.
Which, as everyone knows, means “no later than 2:30.”
Yes, it does.
YES IT DOES.
Okay, it doesn’t.
But still, where is the plumber?
PLUMBER, WHERE ARE YOU?
So, as you may have heard, I am waiting for the plumber. It’s part of the continuing saga, All My Shit is Broken, Who Broke All My Shit? Today, the broken item is a clogged bathroom sink drain. It was running a little slow and the eco-friendly baking soda/white vinegar option did nothing, so I broke down and used drain cleaner yesterday, after which it was fine and continued to be fine until about 7:00 this morning, when it stopped draining completely. I read somewhere that drain cleaner sometimes mixes with soap to form a cement-like block in the pipe, so I’m thinking (a) that’s what happened and (b) it’s something of a product flaw.
2:45 and still no plumber.
I haven’t mentioned this yet, but I want to move, which would necessitate selling my house. Over the last several months, I’ve been systematically, by which I of course mean haphazardly, decluttering and painting and repairing, but mainly despairing. I feel like I’ll never get this house ready to sell. Every time I complete one project, something new breaks or falls off or fills up with water. Here’s a thing that’s not supposed to have water in it: the space between the panes of double-paned windows. So why is there water in the space between the panes of my double-paned windows? Because that is the story of my life.
3:03 and still no plumber.
As part of the decluttering process, I’ve sold a couple of hundred books, for which I made the princely sum of 2 buttons and some string. I also found a pair of boots in the back of the closet that I purchased in 2006 and never wore. They were still in the box with the receipt and I got them from Nordstrom, which …
PLUMBER’S HERE! BRB.
There are two plumbers, which is two more people than I ever want to have in my house. Also, I think one of them might be a trainee, which does not fill me with joy. However, seeing as how I don’t want to brush my teeth in the bathtub, I’ll allow it. They’re going to be cutting into the drain pipe in the basement, which I anticipate will make a lovely grinding noise. Today is really shaping up to be something!
Anyway, the boots. They were from Nordstrom, which has such a liberal return policy that there is an unconfirmed, or at least only occasionally confirmed, story about how someone once successfully returned a car tire to them. I don’t know about that, but I do know that it’s generally pretty easy to return things there. Even so, I bought these boots seven years ago. On the other hand, $230. Enough debate! Let’s go to the store.
Me: I don’t know if you’re going to go for this, but …
Sales Associate [fearful look]: …
Me: I’d like to return these boots that I bought when you were in middle school. Here is my receipt!
Sales Associate [scanning barcodes and punching buttons]: How do you want your money back?
Me: Er … cash?
Sales Associate [handing me cash]: Here you go!
Next time, I’m taking them a tire.