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Thursday, January 17, 2013

The Faucet from Hell

Why, oh why, did I buy my wife a faucet for Christmas?

How many gifts are just give and you're done with it? But a faucet, you have to install! And why, oh why, did I buy one made in another country? Do you know how hard it is to install a faucet designed to not fit your sink?

First, being the brave, naïve person that I am, I decided to install it myself. After all, it's just a faucet. Just unscrew a few things and screw it in. Right? Wrong! After wrestling with a nut the size of Texas on a Thursday, which I had no tool in my arsenal able to wrap around it, I had the inspiration to get some other fool to do this for me.

Queue the Jaws music. Opened up the yellow pages and picked a plumber randomly. Called him up. Scheduled for Friday. He arrived. He assessed the situation. He said he needed to get some supplies. He left. He never came back. What?

Hours passed. I wondered what he was doing at Home Depot. Stocking up on rat poison or something? I called their office. No one answered. I left a message. No call. No "we're sorry." No, "he was in an accident." I was left high and dry.

So I decided to call a handy man we used to use. It had been a few years. Almost as long for him to return the call.

Called another handy man we had a card from. He no longer did that work, but gave us a reference for another guy who did. Called him, left a message. Nada. By now I'm beginning to wonder if I am cursed.

After a day of waiting for return calls and getting nothing, I decide it was time to try another plumber. I hoped to get this done before the weekend. I called. They scheduled me. I waited, and fifteen minutes past the time they were scheduled to be there, I called. "Where are you?" "I'm sorry, but you are not on the schedule." "But I gave him all my info. What happened?"

Now, I not only think this faucet is cursed, it is deemed evil in the sight of the Lord, and will not be installed.

But in between calling the last plumber and waiting fruitlessly for them to arrive, the first handyman called me back saying he could do it either Wednesday or Saturday. Explained to him a plumber was on the way, which turned out to be a lie, so in desperation I called him back to see if he could come Saturday. We scheduled. Saturday arrived. He called. He's sick as a dog and can't come. Rescheduled for Monday.

All righty. Now I'm thinking I should throw this faucet into the depths of Mt. Doom. This facet of power wills to return to its master. And apparently, I'm not he.

Monday arrives, and no show for the handy man. I call. I leave a message. He misunderstood the time we agreed upon. At least that's the story. He comes. He assesses the situation. This is going to require some minor surgery. He uninstalls the current facet. He says he's going to get supplies.

At this point, I'm gun shy. After tearing apart our kitchen faucet, he'd better come back. Thankfully, he does. He drills holes. He grinds the main hole bigger because it won't fit. Sparks fly. He rewires underneath. I pray earnestly for mercy.

We turn on the water. It spews forth from the nozzle. Hot and cold erupt from the fountain as if Moses himself stood, rod in hand, and smote it. I ran the dishwasher, it having waited patiently for days to spray its water throughout the whole of its domain.

Days of partying ensued. We had faced the enemy, and it was silver. We endured, we suffered, but in the end, we redeemed that evil faucet and subdued it to our will. Glory be to God on high, and in house, peace and good will among family.

I'm sure once I'm in Heaven, this story of victory will be shared into eternity.

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