Feat of the Epiphany

 A few years ago, the lights went out in my laundry room and in the pantry.   We put in new bulbs, checked the fuses and tried several unsuccessful work arounds --battery operated and motion sensor lights.  Nothing worked. Not really.  We grew used to hitting the flashlight on our phones when we'd need to search for herb de provence or needed to find the fabric softener.  

This past week, the repairman we asked to help with some tile work, fixed both lights.  

My children and I remain in the dark on this matter.  We walk in like we've always walked in, searching the shadows for the couscous or the bounce dryer sheets, and someone (who will feel quite superior in the moment), will say, "You know, the light switch works." and flick it accordingly with all the smugness they can muster.  However, everyone's been caught groping through the darkness in either the landry room or pantry closet, so everyone's been the smug and the mugged by smugness at least twice.    

None of us remember.  None of us even remember we were the ones who did the mocking last time.  Lost in the moment when we've decided to move along the wash or hunt for the hot chocolate mix, we've now resorted to explaining why we didn't turn on the lights.  The following may or may not have been used by any or all of those of us who use those two rooms on a regular basis and do not flick the switch. 

10) Batman defense: I can see in the dark. 

9) Starwars defense:I don't need to see what I'm doing, I am one with the force and the force is one with me...

8) Saving the earth by saving energy. --this would work if any other lights in the house were turned off ever...

7) Just hadn't made it over to the light switch yet.  --this is mine, I'll get to it..no one buys my stalling thoough.  

6)  Preserving the light switch. It's been so long since we've had one, we're having attachment issues with the mechanism.  

5) Can't find the light switch --because it's dark and it's been so long, we don't remember where it is in the room.   

4) I turned it on, someone else turned it off just to mess with me.    I'd believe this if any of us ever remembered in the first place. 

3) The lightbulbs burnt out.  One of my older sons attempted this one, and I went to get the ladder, resulting in the Reagan policy, "Trust but verify." 

2) I have my cell phone --old habits die hard.   

1) I remembered after I walked in,but knew someone else would take care of it.  (It kind of deflates the smug factor if you bank on others taking care of the task for you) --not sure if it's true, fairly sure it isn't.   

There is hope for change. Today, I found the closet with the light left on...

The Prodigal Sink

Last week, my upstairs sink stopped working. There was no note, no explanation, nothing. I tried turning the knobs underneath and discovered that they leak very nicely when you do.

“Honey, the upstairs sink has no water. I should call a plumber.”

“You always want to call a plumber. It just stopped working…maybe it will start up again.”

“That’s like thinking the sink is Lassie and she ran away and might come back.”

“You never know. It’s a harsh cruel world out there and she might miss the comfort and safety of having green watermelon toothpaste smeared to her sides on a daily basin.” My husband tried turning the knobs, discovering the same leak.

“She might have quit because of the toothpaste. Think she prefers one with tartar control?”

“Just give it time. We don’t have to call this second. The kids can use the other sink. We can wait.”

“What are we waiting for? Godot?”

“No, we’re waiting for the spigot to go.”

A vigil for the recalcitrant sink began.

Meanwhile, other plumbing fixtures decided to pull an intervention. Toilets began random gurgling in solidarity with the sink. These were annoying, but insufficient to merit what I guessed would be a hefty service fee and four hour wait by the doorbell.

The fixtures grew more impatient, so the kitchen sink took action. The stream from the faucet became an anemic trickle. Worse than pure stoppage which would have ensured a prompt phone call to the proper authorities, it became work to get things wet. I limped through dishwashing. It took hours. I tried switching to an all paper plate economy but cooking still required some items be washed.

In desperation, I tried running the faucet before there were even dishes to do. Forty five minutes later, the sink was full and I had to drain the pasta. Watching that hard earned water go down the drain, I had an inspiration. I replugged the sink and drained the pasta, hoping the water would cool by the time I did dishes.

That evening, the plumber was looking oh so affordable and lovely to my reddened hands. Being weak, I called.

“We can send a truck next Thursday sometime between twelve and four. Will someone be there?”

“I have a Dr.'s appointment at two.”

“The next time available is June 5th.”

Visions of family visiting Memorial Day weekend and finding a non working sink and languid kitchen flow made me impulsively ask, “How much for coming tomorrow?”

“An extra $100 for the emergency service plus the standard rate of $55 for the first half hour.”

Meekly agreeing to the fiscal extortion, all I could think was “Lassie! Lassie come home!”