Sadly, this week The Husband has the bug that kept me down last week. I recognize the symptoms all too well – clogged head, exhaustion, complete inability to think in any rational manner.
And yet last night he overcame this viral Kryptonite to save our household from the tyranny of plumbing disaster.
There I was, doing the supper dishes. It was about 6:45. I was aghast to discover large amounts of water seeping from the spot where the faucet meets the sink. “I think you’d better come and look at this,” I said. Actually, I had to say it twice, because he was in that nasty “misery zone” of this virus, the one that keeps you from being fully aware of what’s going on around you at any given time.
The mild-mannered husband struggled into the kitchen, and seeing the imminent crisis immediately donned his superhero cape. One glance into the dripping sink cabinet told the story. It wasn’t a repair situation – replacement was the only option.
Faster than a speeding bullet he was off to Costco. Minutes later he returned with the two kitchen faucets they had in stock. With a lightning-speed decision, we chose one, and he went into action.
By 8:45 the episode was concluded, and the villainous old faucet replaced with a gleaming new one. We were back in business. And Sink Man collapsed into bed, spent by the struggle.