Columns

It could always be worse, Part II

By HOWARD TROXLER
Published December 10, 2006

A spot of bad luck is good for you. Let me explain.

Suppose a man says to you:

"We're going to have to cut holes in the walls of several rooms in your house."

Coming out of the blue, this would be unpleasant news. Think of the dust, the disruption, the repair and paint.

But here is where bad luck is good for you. Suppose this news comes on top of having not one, but two plumbing leaks in the slab of your house, ruining much of it.

After that a few puny holes are nothing. Nothing! You bark a defiant laugh and say, "Of course! Cut away! Here, let me take a hammer and bang some holes myself, ha, ha!"

Then you will add Wall Guy to your list of new friends. Wall Guy comes after Eddie the Plumber and the Electrician, but before the Painter, Floor People, Cabinet Installers and the Countertop Team.

All this gives me a new respect for loose water, I tell you what. The first leak was down in the concrete slab. See, they used to set up the pipes first, pour the concrete over 'em and build the house on top of the slab. Apparently these days they do a better job of protecting the pipes.

After the first leak, our house was filled for days with huge, jet-engine sounding dehumidifiers, which not only made the cooing of sweet nothings difficult, but also resulted in the need to sleep with a glass of water by the bedside for when you woke up in the middle of the night going gack-gack with dryness.

When they finally shut off the jet engines, I kept hearing this gushing sound beneath the house, like somebody was running a hose. When Eddie the Plumber came back he listened and said, "That's bigger than the first one." To which I said, "Ha, ha! Of course it is!"

After that we could have either spent a bunch more money finding the second mysterious leak and busting up the slab, or else just re-plumbed the whole house through the attic, which people advised us to do.

In the meantime, since the mysterious second leak is in a hot-water pipe, we keep the water heater closed off, and we must run out into the garage, via the paths of heavy brown paper across the dusty concrete where the floors used to be, to turn on the hot water before dashing back to take a shower or washing the dishes in the sink. The sink, as the cabinets are gone, stands on a base of 2 by 4s.

And so these days men are cheerfully cutting holes in our walls and dropping clean, modern pipes down through them. They are kind-hearted and professional men and the ailing Harry the Dog loves them. The other day I came home and they were taking a quick lunch break and had Harry out with them. Harry gets to do whatever he wants these days, since the doctors say his time is short.

"Doesn't insurance cover it?" people ask helpfully, trying to look on the bright side. For the most part it does, except for the re-plumbing, oddly enough. Eddie said when we got the permit that the county will decide whether to raise our taxes because of all the "improvements." To which I said, "Of course! Ha, ha!"

Still, we have a better deal than Harry, which I think about every day, as well as the fact that Christmas is coming and many people do not even have houses to fix. So we try to be philosophical.

I tell you what, though. If I wake up one morning covered in boils or fiery hail starts falling over our house, somebody is going to have some explaining to do.

[Last modified December 10, 2006, 00:52:43]