A few months back I began to notice an echoing of some type coming from our bathroom. It never bothered me nor did I recognize it during the day. Probably because as long as the sunshine is up, the volume in my home is comparable to most city zoos.
So while I laid there late one night listening to the echoing I decided to investigate the issue. I walked into my bathroom trying to sneak up on whatever was stalking the little sleep I managed to get that week. I took a seat on the toilet hoping to catch red-handed whatever was holding my bathroom hostage. Then...it happened!
The sound which I thought may somehow be coming from one of those creatures inhabiting the pages of my children's library books actually was coming from my bathtub faucet. "A flipping drip," I thought.
Like the good wife I am, I immediately reported the issue to Hubby. And like the good Hubby he is, he immediately took care of the problem......NOT!
I am in year six of a beautiful marriage. I love and adore my husband. I think my hardest lesson and something that takes constant practice is learning that men and women do not work on the same schedule. I get things done yesterday, while my husband will work up to the deadline. It seems the more chaos that ensues, the happier he is. He loves a challenge.
And so the dripping continued. As the time went on, the period between the drips closed in. It began to sound more like a popcorn machine than a dripping problem. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into into months. Then finally, two days ago, I couldn't turn the darn faucet off at all.
I was innocently cleaning the tub, and obviously I needed some water. When I was done I tried my hardest to turn that faucet off, but it wouldn't budge. After a minute of feeling totally hopeless and cursing the very existence of men that ignore their wives plea for help; I kicked it. That's right, I kicked it. It made a noise that I can even describe, but surprisingly the water had completely stopped dripping. "I fixed it, I fixed it," I yelled.
I knew that was far from the truth. In fact the cold water knob was now lying in the bathtub...CRAP!
A few words to my husband after he came home that night (believe me when I tell you I didn't ask how his day was) and we were finally in business. No he didn't fix it. But he got on the Delta faucet website. I offered to pick up the parts if he promised to fix my bathtub this weekend.
I told my boys I would be using their tub tonight. Potter looked shocked. "Mom, you'll catch boy germs," he said. (Obviously the reason I'm taking a bath in the first place). I calmed down immensely while sitting in their Sea of Cooties. (i.e. bathtub)
It's amazing just how much one can miss their own bathtub. As I sat soaking in Huggies Hypoallergenic bubbles, surrounded by Batman toys and Disney character wash clothes, I longed to be in a place where only Calgon could take me.
Tune in Monday to see: Did Hubby fix the faucet? Is there really popcorn in Mary's bathtub? And finally: will Mary finally find relaxation among scented candles or toy boats and action figures?
