A Husband’s Lot

A Husband’s Lot

  By

  Wilson Zaring

  David and Nora Zaring, Editors

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  Copyright 2012 Wilson Zaring

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  Table of Content

  The Problem

  To the Hardware Store

  Looking for Advice

  Oops

  About the Author

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  Wives and water faucet washers are natural enemies. I often wondered why, and one day it dawned on me. The reason is simple. Since the days of the cave man, it has been understood that it is the husband’s job to replace the washers. I am aware that this story is not especially meaningful to those who have grown up in the age of washer-less faucets, but in the days before plastic, leather washers were used in faucets to cushion metal against metal and create a watertight connection. I encourage those younger readers to press on with this story, because the washers may turn out to be a metaphor for something profound. I have no idea what.

  I used to tell my wife that all she had to do to turn off the water was to gently turn the faucet to the closed position with pressure that could be generated with only two fingers. Just snug it up. But no, she used both hands and applied all the pressure she could muster. I asked, “Why do you do that?” Her reply was. “I want to be sure the water is turned off.” My protest that all she was doing was grinding up the washers availed me naught.

  After only thirty years of this type of abuse, all the washers in my house were leaking. Well, the only ones of concern to this story were the ones in the bathtubs. The washers in the washbasins went about ten years earlier. By that time washer-less faucets were available and were so simple to install that any idiot could install them. I installed ours. — My apologies to Al Capp for stealing his line. — Bathtubs are a different matter. I endured an additional ten years of complaints of how wasteful it was to let all that water continuously drip away.

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  One week, when my wife was attending a convention out of town, I was left alone with lots of spare time, so I decided it was time to fix the tub faucets. It is a well-known fact that at least four trips to the hardware store are required for any home plumbing repair job that is done by a novice. I was determined to set a new record. Actually, my intent was to make fewer trips. Off I went to the store to get four washer-less faucets. Now don't ask me why there were four bathrooms in a house that never had more than four occupants at any time in its history. It probably has something to do with conspicuous consumption.

  I could not believe how much water faucet costs had gone up in only ten years. I was going to have over $200 invested in hardware. Yes, I know that today that is a small investment, but I am a guy who has difficulty forking over six bucks for a ten-cent bag of popcorn at the movie. I never buy a soft drink. I sneak around the corner to the water fountain for a big drink before I head to my seat. I couldn’t enjoy the movie while thinking of spending $12 for two small items I could hold in my lap. I remember a day when for $12 you could buy more food than you could carry to your buggy in one trip.

  I complained to the clerk that these were pretty expensive faucets. He said quietly that when he did repairs he went to the builders supply store up the road, where you could buy the same stuff cheaper. So I did.

  With faucets in hand, I returned home to install them. Yes, the plumbing was in the wall, but I knew there was an access panel. All I had to do was open the panel, reach in and turn off the water, disconnect the old faucet, remove it, install the new, and turn the water back on. Piece of cake. Any idiot can do it. I opened the panel and looked in. To my surprise, I discovered there was no cutoff valve. Furthermore, the plumbing was all copper and soldered into place.

  I knew better than to attempt to disconnect soldered copper connections. Oh, I knew what to do. Turn off the water. Use a blowtorch to melt the solder, while trying not to set the house on fire. When you are finished, you have to put it all back together and hope that when you turn the water on it doesn’t leak. Of course, if you set the house on fire the leak might help. No, if I tried this I could see the headlines. “Wife returns to charred, flooded home, and shoots husband”.

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  I returned to the hardware store to discuss the problem with that helpful clerk. He explained that I didn’t really need to replace the faucets to stop the drip. I could replace the washers. I had never done that. I knew the valves and washers were embedded in the wall where I couldn’t get to them. “No problem,” the clerk explained. “Sure it's recessed in the wall, but we have a special tool for that and we loan it absolutely free.”

  He talked me through the process. You remove the faucet handle and insert this hexagonal tool over the stem that remains. This tool slides into the wall and engages a hexagonal nut. You unscrew the hexagonal nut and the valve mechanism comes out, bringing with it the washer that you need to replace. This washer is held in place by a central screw. Remove the screw, replace the washer, replace the screw, then reverse the process to restore the valve to its rightful place and you are home free. An idiot could do it. Don’t forget to turn off the water before you start. All you need are the replacement washers. I bought a package of 20 assorted sizes. You can’t buy four the size you need; they only come in packages of 20 assorted sizes. Fine. I bought the package, borrowed the marvelous hexagonal tool, and returned to my home project.

  I removed the faucet handle, but there was a problem. The stem the handle was attached to, was inside a pipe that was too small for the hexagonal tool to fit into. I returned to the hardware store to request a smaller hexagonal tool, one that would go inside the pipe. It was explained to me that these tools do not come in sizes. One size fits all. But, it won’t go inside the pipe I protested. The clerk had no idea what I was talking about and referred me to a plumbing shop across town. At the plumbing shop, I explained my problem and was asked the make of the plumbing. After I told him, he explained that the pipe was just a decoration and it unscrewed.

  I returned home and found that I could not unscrew the pipe by hand so I dashed to the basement and brought up a pipe wrench my father had left me. I knew it was a pipe wrench because that’s what Dad said it was. I carefully wrapped a cloth around the pipe so the wrench wouldn't scratch the chrome finish. I was so proud of myself for thinking of that. And would you believe it, the pipe unscrewed.

  I picked up my hexagonal tool and found that it still would not slide into the wall because the ceramic tile blocked it. I could peek inside and see the hexagonal nut I needed to unscrew, but full access to the hexagonal nut was blocked by ceramic tile in which there was only a small hole. Clearly I needed to enlarge the hole, hopefully without breaking the tile.

  A moments thought, and I dashed to the basement and brought up a rattail file. How did I know it was a rattail file? That's right, my father said it was. I carefully filed away until finally the hexagonal tool would slide into the wall and engage the nut. Home at last.

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  I got a firm grip on this marvelous tool and gave it a turn. I knew immediately something was amiss. I withdrew the tool and saw that it was no longer hexagonal. The metal in the tool was so soft that instead of turning the nut the hexagonal nut reshaped the tool. I went back to the hardware store, explained the problem, and pointed out that their hexagonal tool would now work fine on circular nuts. He did not find humor in my remark. I asked for a hexagonal tool of higher quality. All they had to offer were socket wrenches and I would have to buy a complete set to get the one I needed. With one look at the price of those tools, I returned home and called a plumber. Would you believe, he came the very next day, the day my wife wa
s returning. He came, finished the job, and left.

  I cleaned up everything just before my wife walked in, tired and disheveled. The first thing she wanted was a hot bath. I waited outside the bathroom door until she filled the tub and turned off the water. “Notice anything,” I yelled. A short pause and then came her reply. “It doesn’t leak. Honey, you fixed the faucet.” I smiled, replied matter-of-factly, “Yes, Dear.” I tore up my receipt for the $250 plumber’s bill, and tossed it into the trash.

  I've been married since 1950. In those sixty plus years I've learned a thing or two. First of all, don't take problems too seriously. Second, many of life's events are not funny at the time, but they become so in retrospect. So my advice, to younger readers is, hold on. You'll get to the funny part before you know it.

  The End

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  About the Author:

  Wilson M Zaring is a retired Associate Professor of Mathematics from the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign. He coauthored four mathematics textbooks during his teaching career. After retirement, Wilson began delving into his passion with earnest—genealogy. He has published three genealogical works, as well as coauthoring a history of the First United Methodist Church of Champaign, Illinois.

  Born and raised in Kentucky, Wilson moved to Champaign, Illinois to start his career in mathematics. He, and his wife, raised two children in Champaign, where he currently is enjoying his retirement by researching genealogy and writing fiction.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are fictitious and any similarity to any person living or dead is unintentional.

  I have other adventure stories that you may like.

  “Paris in the Spring”

  Anthony’s life just got complicated. He loves his job. Unfortunately, he can’t share the details of that job with anyone. That hasn’t ever really bothered Anthony, until he meets Annette. Annette is a famous film star, and as unlikely as it seemed—even to Anthony—they enjoy each other’s company and begin a long distance relationship. As it turns out, Annette also has secrets to keep. When Anthony discovers Annette’s secret past, life becomes even more complicated. Anthony fears for their relationship when he uncovers even more intrigue surrounding Annette. Will she be able to forgive Anthony for the secrets he has been obligated to keep?

  “American Falls”

  This is an historical tale of a young man coming of age and his journey to find answers to the questions in his life. At the age of 16, Christian Miller left his home in Pennsylvania. His desire to travel West had to do more with his desire to leave behind his troubling memories than his desire to have an adventure. However, adventure was what he found. During his travels he found spiritual enlightenment, was disillusioned and found more truth than he expected to find. This short story adventure gives us a look at the early 1800’s and the trials and hardships that came with the time.

  “The Firebird”

  Ben, a career spy, comes out of retirement to help his country. He’s a bit eccentric—even his cover identities have cover identities—but all his caution has kept him alive. Can Ben uncover a plot in Columbia before the death toll rises? A fast paces story of intrigue and espionage.