Last night the kitchen faucet broke. As in, the handle just pretty much snapped off.
This morning, The Monkey took Famous Baby C to Lowe’s to procure a replacement.
Seems simple, right?
Uncle A, you know, that problems with water in this family are NEVER simple.
Remember the weekend in Delaware without benefit of running water? I rest my case.
So, the simple fact that the faucet broke set in motion a chain of events. Events of misery, and I am being kind here.
When he got back from the first trip to Lowe’s (you had to know that was where this was headed, I mean come on), he parked my car (he needed the carseat equipped vehicle to have Baby C join him) in the driveway. In the driveway, right behind Mr. Smith’s car. In general, we keep my car on the street during the day, so that Mr. Smith can come and go as he pleases. The Monkey has an aversion to leaving the car on the street because our next door neighbors have had three of their cars hit by other neighbors (I know!). So there is this constant thing about moving the damn car. It is crazy.
So, The Monkey starts working on the faucet. In order to do this work, he turns off the water in the whole house. He almost immediately realizes that he needs to make another trip to the hardware store. In the meantime, keep in mind, the water is completely shut off.
The Monkey leaves the scene of the crime. Mr. Smith comes in to ask me why The Monkey put the car in the driveway. I explain that I wouldn’t dare give a reason for anything my father does, so just go ahead and move the car. Except Mr. Smith can’t because The Monkey has taken the keys for my car to the hardware store with him (classic).
I get pissed and say that I will move my car myself, which then means that BOTH children want to come with me. Yes, they actually view moving the car less than 50 feet as an excursion and want to come along. Poor things.
I get back in the house, Mr. Smith is in the bathroom. As soon as I sit down, I hear, “Vertigo B, can you come in here, right now?” He had that edge in his voice, like something is terribly wrong.
I enter said bathroom to discover water shooting out of the toilet where water should not be shooting out. Not that there is ever a time that a toilet shooting water is okay. As in, the back tube thingy (listen, I am no plumber) and was headed for the bathroom rug.
So I shut the stupid valve on the stupid toilet and run in the laundry room to get the biggest, thickest beach towel we have to soak up the water.
I just want you to realize, this whole thing is happening before 9 AM.
After I get out of the bathroom, Mr. Smith is a little put out that the water was turned off and no one bothered to tell him. He states his dissatisfaction with the situation. My mother hears this and voices her dissatisfaction. And I quote, “45 years of marriage and we have always had trouble with water!!!”
I try to explain, calmly, that the problem will be fixed and that we should just remain calm.
Yeah, not so much.
My mother believes that her position as half-owner of this house makes her culpable (she is also an oldest child and retired Catholic, the guilt is crushing) for everyone’s comfort and happiness. When I tell her to basically knock it off and that perhaps it would be better if she go upstairs, she storms up to their room and slams the door.
My mother does not handle these situations well. Also, I am kind of an asshole for sending her to her room.
Either way, she is up in their room with no breakfast, not speaking to anyone at this point.
To sum up, for those of you keeping score at home, The Monkey is on his third trip to the hardware store. We still have no water or working faucet. Mr. Smith’s father is coming tomorrow for an awkward family moment and Uncle A, Aunt M and A1, A2, and A3 arrive Monday for a week.
No blood has been spilled yet, but it is still early.
P.S. Blood has been spilled, it is officially a project NOW!
P.P.S. Since the toilet is unavailable, Grand Master H decided it would be appropriate to poop in a diaper and throw said diaper into the bushes. I caught him, once again, naked in the backyard.
P.P.P.S. Don’t worry. The hillbillies will soon have water. A professional has been summoned. He is a saintly man that has saved our bacon on several occasions. Let me know if you need a good plumber/heating/AC guy.