Dear Plumbing Fates:
Just down the street from us is a house which looks to be held up by sheer force of habit. Also, there are public health notices and the people who “live” there (I say live, in the sense that feral cats could be said to “live” somewhere.) They don’t cut their grass and they throw loud parties with questionable looking people. They probably don’t even buy girl guide cookies when the kids come around.
Dear Plumbing fates, that must be a house that is ripe for your madness and wroth. Surely there are corroded lead pipes and a hot water tank about to explode. Surely there is plaster to melt and floors to warp in that house. Think about how much fun you could have? Tons, I am sure. Also, since they are feral cats, I doubt they would mind all that much.
Me? Well, I just wanted to complete the last work package on my mental gantt chart. It was called install the taps in the vanity and connect the new vanity to the plumbing. Oh, no. You had to get all up in my face what with your Vent! Stack! in the floor! and NOT in the wall!
Sure, you threw me a bone, and at least my vent stack is legal in the floor (unlike my water lines). But, you know what, plumbing fates? You can’t buy a vanity in this town that will accommodate a vent stack in the floor. Ok, maybe I’m exaggerating, but the ones you can buy are uglier than a sack full of drowned kittens and twice as gross. Possibly as ugly as finding a dead mouse in your laundry (I’d have to ask Jen).
Look, we are nice people, trying to gut and restore an old house to it’s former glory. We are nice neighbours. We pay our taxes, we cut our grass!
Please, mosey on down to the house across the street, so that I can call a plumber and pay a king’s ransom to fix this, plus whatever other problems they find. No, really, don’t let the front door hit you on the way out.
(Also, the shower in the kitchen last night? Nice way of pointing out that I haven’t had a shower in my house in a week. Thanks for that. It was the awesome!)