Dear Reader,
Word Raccoon and I are stuck in remodeling/redecorating purgatory. Please send help. And cookies.
I have had her sitting at this dang computer for hours off and on all day, trying to get her to write.
Guess what she has repeatedly googled instead?
Poetry?
No, no.
Pedestal sinks.
Pedestal. Sinks.
Imagine if Wordsworth had done that. (I am not comparing her to Wordsworth, but would we have wanted him to have wasted a whole day on sink shopping?)
Why a pedestal sink? Because she would like to shake the hand of the genius who thought a sink cabinet should go in this tiny bathroom. Because the bottom of the aged cabinet currently there is warped after all this time. Because having it open would make it easier to keep the lines heated in the crazy cold temps and avoid freezing. (She has avoided it freezing, but narrowly, a couple of times.)
WR has thrown her tiny fists in the air today and declared that she wants that disgusting downstairs sink GONE! She does not want to try to clean it one more g-d time only to see nothing but marginal results.
She has tried to give it, its faucet, and the ancient sink cabinet TLC. She painted the cabinet a lovely lavender a couple of years ago. She trimmed it in gold. She ignored the faucet that she hates with the heat of a thousand suns AND their moons.
She regrouted the sink basin. It looked…better…until it started flaking off a year later.
She is tired of better…she wants a new sink and she’s going to make it happen.
Now, does she have plumbing skills?
Not at all.
But she is going to figure this out. I am beginning to suspect our writing depends on getting this fixed. She says she will stay home ALL SUMMER if it means affording this thing.
Her list of summer projects keeps growing, but this, this is the APEX.
She has all of the materials picked out. They’re not so expensive, actually. But the LABOR! And you can’t just have your neighbor who MIGHT know what she’s doing install it, because who knows what you’d end up with?
The faucet installation fee is clearly spelled out on the website where WR is shopping. But the sink, ah, you must go in and talk to them if you want to get it installed EVEN IF YOU HAVE MEASURED, KNOW WHAT YOU WANT, AND JUST WANT TO SCHEDULE INSTALLATION. Those fees remain a mystery.
And why do you have to visit the store at all? What,do they think WR has some sort of secret channel with the plumbing? Do they think she’s at one with the drain? How will going in make any difference? Can’t we just send some pictures or zoom with some damn body?
Alternatively, you can pay to have them come give you a consult.
WR does not want to spend Saturday morning at a hardware store. But she might.
And this is why I can’t get her to settle down enough to write poems.
Or can I?
What if I offer her an Oreo per poem?
It’s worth a try. Let’s not talk about how many she had last night.
I hope your summer is filled with much more pleasant things than plumbing. Like poetry.
Drema
P.S. You may well ask why she does not ask the plumber who just left, having completed the excellent kitchen faucet, to assist. Alas, he is not available for this task. Sigh.
Also, after I let her do half a dozen tiny chores, she agreed to sit down and immediately wrote 8 poems.
She did not receive 8 Oreos. She received dinner out with friends.
She wants to show you the tile she installed yesterday. And Ramen Kitty, guardian of the goodies. She hopes you appreciate kitsch, Dear Reader.
dremadrudge.com 