After he had been working for a while he hollered out,, “Honey, will you please come here and help me with something?”
I forthwith appeared obediently in the bathroom, curious as to what sort of Important Plumbing Task I might be entrusted with.
As it turned out, Steve had disconnected the sink trap, which is the elbow-y looking thing that can be found under a sink.
From my (limited) understanding, a sink trap somehow keeps sewer gases from seeping back up into the house and also collects yucky water consisting of tooth brushing spit and other assorted, um, stuff. (Technical explanation there.) That basically means that the water in a sink trap would not normally be described as pristine. By any stretch of any imagination.
Also, as it turns out, when a sink trap is removed, it has to be held carefully upright because a good bit of the aforementioned icky water will remain in the trap.
And so. When Steve called so plaintively for my help, it was because he was lying under the sink on his back like this . . .
. . . and was carefully holding the plastic elbow thingie in the widely prescribed upright manner.
As I bent down to take the sink trap from him, he proceeded to instruct me in the most knowledgeable and sonorous of tones, “Becky, just take this trap over to the toilet, dump the water out and bring it back to me.”
I carefully retrieved it from his outstretched hands while all the while saying to myself, “Hmmm. It appears as though Steve isn’t thinking very clearly right now. Otherwise, why would he tell me to walk all the way across the bathroom to dump out nasty water when there is a perfectly good sink right here in front me?”
And so, feeling especially pleased with myself for being so efficient and proactive in my Plumber’s Assistant Career, I leaned forward and happily dumped that ol’ slimy water right down the drain. As I did so I blithely inquired, “Steve, why would you want me to walk over and dump this is in the toilet when there is a sink right here in front of . . . .“
Then I trailed off miserably and said, “Oh. Right.”
There was absolute silence in the bathroom for about five seconds. Well, I should say that there was silence except for the squelchy sounds of my hapless husband’s head squishing around in the depths of the water he’d been so recently baptized in.
And then? After the silence? There were five minutes of hysterical laughter.
Those were followed by me asking my patient partner-in-plumbing, “Does that mean that I’m fired as your assistant?”
And I’m sad to report that I really was fired. Sort of.
It appears to me, though, that firing no longer means what it used to mean back in the day. Because somehow, even in my Officially Fired State, I was still summoned throughout the day by my husband to hand him things or hold things while he worked on various projects.
So what’s a girl gotta do around here to get herself fired for real? I mean, look at my working conditions! I have to share space with a man who spends his time pretending that the old faucet paraphernalia is growing out of his. . . . nose?
Sigh.
Oh well. I still think I’ll keep him.
He doesn’t eat much and he’s really good help around the house.
Ohhhh… blechy. *shudder*
Krstina,
I agree. Entirely.
I have been reading for a long time and I do not remember this story but as I started reading, I knew exactly what was going to happen before I read it!! I probably would have done the same thing I am sure.
My husband who is not quite so handy decided that he would install a ceiling fan in the kitchen for me. His friend came over, they stood on chairs, took out the light, connected the fan and checked to make sure that it was working before they attached it to the ceiling. It worked so they attached it to the ceiling, and then it wouldn’t work. I told them that they tripped a breaker. Hubby goes downstairs to check and can’t find a breaker that was tripped so back upstairs they go and bring the fan down so that it is dangling and check the wiring. I, with my infinite wisdom, go downstairs because I know that he tripped the breaker. I look at the breaker box, see the tripped breaker, think to myself, “Should I let them know?” and decide no, it will be fine. I put the breaker back to proper position, the ceiling fan sparks, scares the dickens out of them and they both fell off the chairs that they were standing on!!! Nobody was hurt and I thought it was the funniest thing I had done to him in a long time. He wasn’t quite the gentleman that Steve was but I still can’t tell the story to anyone without laughing my fool head off. 🙂
Oh my, Mel. Thanks so much for sharing your story!
I can just picture the scene in your kitchen and the fan sparking and two guys hollering and falling and you running up the stairs to see what in the world was going on. So funny! (Although I’m sure your husband and his friend were not laughing too terribly hard when it first happened.)
Our husbands put up with a lot, don’t they? 🙂 Thanks for taking the time to tell your story.
We are truly sisters, and of the same strange blood line; I would have done the very same thing. (Act upon the first thing that pops in my head, even though told to do otherwise; as Arn well knows!) Steve did well to react in such a gentleman like manner! Definitely keep him around.
Ruth,
With all the projects you and Arn have embarked on over the years, I’m sure you do have plenty of similar stories to tell. God bless our long suffering husbands!
Oh my, I’m laughing hysterically the second time with this story! Even more so this time because last year I changed out my first faucet. My cousin was topside and I was under/in the cabinet. Never turn on the water without the faucet handles on! Haven’t heard that kind of shrieking out of her for decades! She ran out of the bathroom like a monster was chasing her leaving the then 3 year old supervisor in there! Good memories! She’s not totally fired either lol.
Guerrina,
That is too funny! There seem to be a lot of stories on here about shrieking and laughing. Who knew fixing stuff around the house could be such an action-packed undertaking?
An unbeatable team right there! 🙂 Love that story. And Steve gets lots of points for being so non-grouchy!
Deb,
Yep, we are QUITE the team! And that is one “team story” neither of us will ever forget.
Have a feeling I probably would have done the same thinking as you – Steve seems to be a very patient man (as mine is). Don’t know if there would be fits of laughter in our case, but glad you both can chuckle about this. Funny memories!
Sharyn,
I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks so “logically’ during a repair! 🙂
We just did that the other day and the smell that was coming out of that pipe was so bad! It smelled like sewer for the whole day. Poor Steve! I really love your stories, old and new, Becky.
Shawn,
Nothin’ quite like a day-long sewer smell to enhance one’s life, is there? 🙂 Glad you enjoy the stories.
don’t remember reading this one. glad your plumber has a sense of humor.
btw, do you know how much a plumber charges for the first hour? maybe you don’t want to know. $155!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Mrs. Pam,
I don’t doubt a plumber charges that much; it’s not a fun job. Although when I think of some of those numbers and all the many repairs Steve has done on his own over the years, I realize I just how many tens of thousands of dollars he has saved us. (Of course, he deserves hazardous duty pay when he has me helping!)
You two just have toooooo much fun!
Jan,
Yes, we do! 🙂 Laughing is a great ingredient for a healthy marriage!
I just roared with laughter. This is so funny! Poor Steve.
Jenna,
The only good thing that came out of the story is that a lot of laughter was produced–on the day it happened and later on, too. But it was definitely hard won laughter!
I remember this story and it’s still just as gross and hilarious as the first time I read it!! Not so sure that my hubby would have been so gracious. Just sayin’. 😉
LeeAnne,
Well, Steve has had other other moments when he didn’t react quite as charmingly but I guess the absurdity of this situation just hit his funny bone. Thankfully.