I’m Going to Have to Call the Plumber

I’m going to have to call the plumber.

Last week, after David mowed, he came in and asked where the sewer line went out from the house. I pointed, right outside our bedroom window and said, “Right there.”

“Are you sure,” he said.

“Absolutely.” I said. “I remember when the plumber had to come and dig up the front yard because of a clog.”

I do remember it, clearly. We live in my childhood home, and this particular plumbing crisis happened at the house years ago, when I was seventeen or so. Mother was away one evening, playing bridge, I think, with her bridge friends (Doris, Linda, and Honor). Daddy and I were watching television in the den when JoAnne, age 13, came out of the bathroom and said, quite calmly, “The bathtub won’t drain, and the potty’s overflowing.”

Leaping from his recliner to the bathroom in a single bound, Daddy shut off the water to the toilet and began to use a plunger on the bathtub. Things got under control, but that was the end of any spontaneous water usage that evening. Only the most necessary flushing, etc. were allowed. The next morning, we were encouraged to use water as sparingly as possible and try to wait until we got to school and work if we could. That afternoon, I picked JoAnne up from school and went home to find Mr. Tindell, the plumber, digging up the front yard, looking for the clogged part of the line. We walked in the house, and Mother sent us right back out.

“Go to the mall,” she said. “Use the bathroom, get a snack, and take your time. Maybe he’ll be done by time you come back.” He was. The water was back on. The big hole in the yard was filled in. I don’t think the yard’s ever had to be dug up again. Well, not for plumbing. Trees had to be replaced a couple of times. Different story.

Anyway, back to out current problem. David says there seems to be an unpleasant smell coming from under the house, but at the side, instead of the front.

“Well, “ I said, “I don’t know what it is, but that’s not where the sewer line comes out. And, I can’t call the plumber right now, anyway. His mother just died.” I’d seen her obituary. So I’m waiting a bit.

But I can’t wait long. There’s another problem. I’m now taking showers standing in water almost up to my ankles. Sigh. When the water shows any sign of being the least little bit slow to drain, I’m supposed to immediately use some Drano to solve the problem, because it gets out of control really quickly. I waited a little too long. I’ve tried the super duper stuff a few times, with limited success. I’m going to try once more, because now it’s so bad that, if I’m the least little bit tardy finishing my showers, the small plunger that sits in there on the shower floor tips over and starts to float around.

I think I really need to wait until the weather abates a little, though. My plumber is still Mr. Tindell, but he’s the son of the original Mr. Tindell. He’s my age, and I’m a little reluctant to send someone my age down under my house when it’s one hundred four degrees (feels like one hundred fifty). I’d be unhappy, on several levels, if anything happened to him. One, I don’t want to be responsible for customers all over town losing their plumber. Two, I’ve known Ken since we were teen-agers at church. And, most important, Tindells have been the plumbers at this house since it was built. We trust them. What’ll I do when Ken retires!?!?!

I rely on Ken. He comes as soon as he can fit me, like when I called a couple of years ago and left this message: “Ken, a week ago, right as we were leaving town, I knocked a Secret deodorant bottle into the toilet, just as it was flushing. It didn’t overflow. So we went ahead and left. We’re back now, but I am very reluctant to use the toilet, afraid the Secret bottle’s still stuck in there somewhere. Help.”

He worked and worked and worked, trying to get it out (because it definitely was down there, somewhere).

No good comes from flushing a Secret deodorant bottle down a toilet

Eventually, he had to take the whole toilet off the floor and carry it outside and work and work and work some more. Finally, success! He brought it back in and reattached it to the floor, turned everything back on, and discovered that all the work had caused a leak.

I got a new toilet. He offered the rescued Secret bottle back to me.

Hmmm. No thanks.

Maybe I’ll call next week. There’s a cool front blowing in apparently. It’s only supposed to get to 91 on Thursday.

Moreover, it is God’s gift that all should eat and drink and take pleasure in all their toil.

Ecclesiastes 3:13

We all have our work to do. Even Baby Peter has his work, learning to crawl, to sit steadily, to stand. Ken the plumber has very important work to do, for lots of folks. Work may be difficult and frustrating, and sometimes distasteful, in some way or another, for all of us. But the end result, the finished product, should give us pleasure and joy.