Page 6 of I Heart Mason Cartwright
Willow
I studythe picture in my big orange home improvement book one last time before doing a semi-crawl-with-a-long-leaning-type maneuver back under my kitchen sink to turn the handle for the water thingie to make it come back on. I’d like to say I’m not worried about what’s going to happen, but that’s not true.
I’m totally worried, I’ve never done this before. I take a deep breath and hold it while I grab the rounded knob that will make water magically reappear at the sink faucet and twist.
And twist.
Nothing happens. I look back at the pictures. They did one full turn. Maybe two. I’m over four turns now. I don’t think it should rotate this much.
Did I go in the wrong direction?
I crank it a few times in the other direction.
Nothing happens.
It feels loose. Maybe too loose? I fling it down on one side with my finger and watch as the handle spins freely.
This can’t be good.
The book doesn’t say anything about what to do if the knob spins freely or won’t stop turning. I crawl back out of the cabinet and stand, wiping my hands on the sides of my jeans, and try to decide if I should try the faucet again. Princess Tinkerbell, P-Tink for short, my ever-faithful Husky puppy (and canine home improvement assistant), whimpers at my feet.
“I know, I think you’re right. But let’s think positive thoughts,” I mumble to her. She closes her eyes and sighs.
I raise the handle on the kitchen sink faucet. The pipes respond with a loud groan. The faucet rattles in protest, a brownish sludge drips to the sink bottom and stays there. I raise the handle a bit more and lean in to watch what happens. The rattling intensifies, the sludge clears in color a bit, and then the entire apparatus catapults off its base on the counter, clipping me on the forehead as it flies through the air. Water follows, spouting every which way at least three feet in the air.
“Aaah!” I cough-snort as the tinny-tasting stream shoots up my nose and down my throat. “Dammit, Janet! That freaking hurts!” I mutter my favorite curse phrase from one of my favorite movies.
I duck and move to the side to get out from under the rusty-colored spray, rubbing at the sore spot on my forehead. P-Tink barks and hops back and forth on either side of the spattering shower, trying to bite the streams of water as they flow to the floor.
I watch the dirty brown water drench everything in sight and try not to cry. I knew when I bought this old fixer-upper that the kitchen would need replacing, but I’d hoped it would last a little longer than this. Especially since I’ll now need a new floor once this one warps.
Flooding.
Oh crud, I’ve got to get the water off the floor.
Wait. I’ve got to get the water turned off.
“Oh! P-Tink, crap!”
I move back in, squeezing my eyes shut against the deluge and blindly try to staunch the flow with outstretched hands. I get my hands clasped over the top of the pipe, then grab the nearest thing I can find to use as a stopper. My favorite hoodie I’d laid on the counter earlier. I shove the edge of the sleeve into the pipe opening, then fold the material in on itself to create a thicker barrier. I already know I’ll never wear it again after seeing the color of that water. No matter how many times I wash it.
I look around for something to weigh the hoodie/water stopper down. My home improvement book is the only thing in reach.
Sigh.
I lodge it between the backstop of the sink and the folded hoodie material to hold it in place over the pipe. I haven’t stalled the flow of water completely, but the hoodie has definitely lessened the raging spout to more of a dribble; with most of the water going back into the sink and down the drain.
I’m a freakin’ home maintenance MacGyver!
I check the floor-plan-map-thing the realtor drew for me to identify where certain things are located: breaker box, electric meter, main water shut-off valve, sprinkler controls—the kind of stuff that home renovators need to know. Since I’m now a home renovator, I need to know these things. I could hire people to do this. I have the money.
My grandmother, Granny Violet, recently passed away and she and I were close. She left me some money. And by some, I mean a lot. Like, I never need to work if I don’t want to. Neither do my kids. Even if I have ten of them. Which I won’t. Because that would be crazy. I could never handle ten kids. I can barely handle one dog.
But I don’t want to hire people. I remind myself of that as I try to find the main water shutoff valve for the house. Luckily, this one is a lever that only goes in one direction. I get it switched to off, and slog back to the house where P-Tink is slurping water off the floor.
“Good girl, just go ahead and get it all while you’re at it,” I tell her. She makes a wooing sound in response. She totally gets me.
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