Sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Old Crow called to ask me if she could do some of her laundry the following day. I said of course, and didn’t think any more about it… until I came home from working out.
I was astounded and angered to find she had everything that we had under the kitchen sink, scattered around the kitchen floor, with wet towels.
When words finally came to me, (that weren’t profane) I managed to say, “What happened”?
OC: [looking at me like it was obvious] “You have a leak.”
Me: “What part of your laundry is under our sink”?
OC: “Huh…? There’s a leak under the sink”
Me: “What were you doing under the sink in the first place”?
OC: “Oh… I don’t remember. I’m going to get son-in-law over here to see what’s wrong. But he won’t be able to get here until Sunday.
Me: [thinking she evaded the question] “That’s three days from now.”
Knowing Old Crow, her fierce cheapness, and her stupid compulsions – she would dicker with anyone stupid enough to take the job, and she wouldn’t let is use the sink in the mean time. So I said I’d look at it and figure out the problem.
I did. The faucet leaked
It looked easy. She buys the faucet, and I put it in. She doesn’t pay labor, and I don’t have to wait three days (and endure a parade of plumbers cracks) to use the sink.
First, OC bought the wrong faucet. It wouldn’t fit in the same hole. Luckily I caught the error, but didn’t see the omen.
Then, I turned off the water, disassembled the pipes from the drain and disposal, then disconnected the water pipes. I unscrewed all but one of the anchor bolts. I worked on that one for 20 minutes before I realized the mount had rusted out and the bolt was just spinning as I turned it.
Old Crow wasn’t home, and I didn’t have a hack saw to cut through the bolt. So I relied on a part of my personality that had brought me through countless situations similar to this one… brute-force and ignorance. By the way… I didn’t say it got me through those situations gracefully.
45 minutes, a pint of sweat, and a torrent of profanity later… I was able to expand the bolt hole enough to pull the head of the bolt through.
In my estimation, all I needed to do was get the old faucet out and my problems would be over. Nope.
Two larger problems remained. First, the original install was custom. The water supply pipes weren’t long enough to meet the ones supplied with the new faucet. And, the brute force and ignorance that got me out of the previous problem, bent the crap out of the sink where the faucet bolted to the sink… Oops.
I couldn’t install the new faucet, and I wrecked the sink. I kept telling myself, “Old Crow… You get what you pay for.” I did feel a little bad about the sink though.
Long story short…
It turns out the sink wad pretty rusted and needed to be replaced anyway. It is nearly as old as I am.
Two days later, Old Crow convinced one of her ‘gentlemen friends,’ a retired contractor, to install the new sink; while she watched every move. It took him 9 hours, and several trips to Home Depot. I wonder if she was paying him by the hour… Or if they had some other deal worked out (shutter).
Next: Protecting the Sink…
Postmodern Dad 
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