Plumbing Made Easy
Shortly after my hot water heater went kaput, the bathroom faucet decided to defect too. The gods of plumbing, ever capricious, always cruel, know when to hit a man when he’s down. I’d just gotten a call from our new library. The big window where my glass mural was installed was leaking. What could I do about it? And if I couldn’t do anything about it, I was to know that the long term maintenance of the library was paramount and if necessary, they would (reluctantly) trashcan the art glass. I said I wasn’t a window system installer and didn’t have a clue if flashing or caulking would help. I also said if the library itself was in jeapordy of being washed downstream, by all means, sacrifice the stained glass and save yourselves. Geez, I got my own leakage to deal with….
The faucet was the second one I’d put in that downstairs bathroom, a fancy Swiss number I thought would outlast me. Something internal was leaking and I decided to replace the whole thing rather than start searching for valve stems and such in Geneva. I got myself a Kohler. I’ve toured the famous Kohler factory with its wall of toilets 20 feet high and 30 feet wide, an impressive lineup of crappers made proudly in Wisconsin. Kohler, Wisconsin, actually. Like the Swiss faucet I thought this solid piece of plumbed engineering would outlast me. Which, if past plumbing escapades are any clue, it might, if for no other reason than the stress and aggravation would probably kill me one day.
If you are a careful reader of this blogsite, you know the Rules of Plumbing set forth by Skeeter. Any job, no matter how small, easy or insignificant, will require a minimum of 3 trips to the hardware store. It’s like E=mc squared. You can’t get around it. You may not understand the mathematic formula that proves it, but ignorance isn’t going to help you. Sorry. I know, I’ve tried. Those who cling to the notion that ignorance is bliss, they haven’t done their own plumbing.
I’m going to spare you the minutiae of 3 days in the hellhole of my downstairs bathroom. I’m going to skip the part where I ended up pulling the entire sink out, marble base and all. I’m going to simply tell you I made 4 trips, not 3, to the nearest hardware store for new supply lines, cut-off valves and various other parts that wouldn’t fit with the new fancy Kohler. I’m going to jump straight to the day, a few days down the pike, when I reinstalled the sink with the gleaming Kohler faucet glinting a golden light from its elegant and stylish neck, turned the tap and … a measley flow of water flowed from its mouth.
Lesser men might have given up. Lesser men might have called a plumber. Lesser men might have taken a maul to the whole wretched sink and vented their misery and frustration in an orgasm of rage. But I am not that man. I have, of course, been that man. And I know that when the dust clears and the smoke smolders, the release of that brutal outrage will be nothing compared to what comes next. It is a short lived pyrrhic victory no matter how good it felt for those few moments of manic catharsis.
No, I went to the internet, I googled up the problem and I deciphered that it was the aerator, a little screw on gizmo faucet manufacturers are fond of attaching to the spout. Don’t ask me why. Just let me unscrew it and leave it off so little bits of sand don’t clog it ever again….
I could make you cry telling you the next series of events. I could make you believe there is no God, at least none who could stand up to the drain-faced horror that is the God of Plumbing. I could make you pity me more than a Syrian refugee stuck in limbo waiting for winter to descend on the swamps of Slovenia. But to what end? Suffice it to say the aerator wouldn’t come out. No, the good engineers at Kohler had attached it to a small cheap plastic quarter inch tube that I eventually snipped off after jerking and pulling on it for an hour. A grain of sand would have stopped half its flow. Picture it: inside this polished nickel faucet, they had used a plastic piece of tubing. Ten cents of tubing, no more. On an expensive faucet bearing the name Kohler.
Oh, you bet snipping that cheapass piece of junk off ruined the entire faucet. You know I had to start over, you know I had to buy another faucet by any other manufacturer than &#@?!! Kohler, and you know by now, or you by god should, how many more trips I will have to make to the parts store before that new Pfister goes in the sink. Today is Thanksgiving. Count your blessings! Me, I’m counting those trips.
Hits: 418