Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Forcing The Issue

Back in the good, old days of dating when Mark wanted to impress me, he volunteered to change the oil on my Ford Escort.

Swoon.........wasn't that so sweet of my boyfriend?

He had a little trouble getting the oil filter off and asked me to get him a hammer and screwdriver.

"It's on here so tight I can't budge it so I'm going to drive the screwdriver through the oil filter and make a handle so I can turn it."

It was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard of and I didn't know a thing about cars.

That was my first sign from the repair gods that my breakable life with him would involve brute force, but I was in love and ignored that which was right in front of my face.

Over the years he has busted most things he's tried to fix.  I stand over him and say, "It's fine, Mark.  Just leave it, Mark.  DON'T FORCE IT, MARK!!!"

He mocks my girliness and then says, "Just a little bit tighter, a quarter of a turn and I'm there."  That's when the piece snaps off, the glass breaks or the metal bends and before I can scream at him he screams at himself.

Son of a bitch is the preferred scream.


We have been trying to unclog our bathroom sink that has been draining incredibly slow.  My favorite hardware man gave me something to try and said once should do the trick.  Maybe twice but no more than that and your sink will work like a charm.

You dump the stuff down the drain, wait an hour and then run hot water.

#1 didn't work

#2 didn't work

The next day Mark wanted to give it one more try.  "No, that's okay. Mark," I said.  "We probably need to call a plumber, Mark.  Just leave it and I'll call somebody out."

"Mark."

But my Neanderthal couldn't leave it alone.

He tried hot water one more time.......massive quantities of hot water dumped into our little, bathroom sink.  After the third time in two days the sink protested the repeated water boarding.

The pipe gave way from all the pressure and all that water gushed over the bathroom floor, the dining room underneath on the first floor, the basement.

"SON OF A BITCH," he bellowed.

BUCKETS!  I NEED BUCKETS!!!!

Will and I went scurrying for the mop, the buckets, the towels, the National Guard.

It took awhile to clean everything up and when we finished Mark shook his head.  "I think if it weren't for that pipe breaking I was pretty close to unclogging the sink."

He. Was. Never. Close.

In the meantime, I am washing my hands in the tub until a pro can come out and fix the bigger problem we now have, and that boyfriend of mine is dragging his knuckles on the ground until he hears the call to duty once again.


1 comment:

  1. So sorry for the trouble. Really - Really - Sorry .
    But the way you wrote the story, it is so funny that Tom and I were actually gasping for breath
    with tears running down our faces . Haven't laughed that way for a long time.
    Thanks for sharing .......... Your devoted readers .

    ReplyDelete