That sinking feeling

I have mixed emotions about plumber’s putty.

I’m sure my son, Paul, does too. After all, it took him two days and a scraped knuckle to get the drainy-thingy apart from the sink. Whoever put that sink in there slathered plumber’s putty on drain like Cool Whip on pumpkin pie.

At least the sink now works, the water is in the pipes and not puddling on the inside of the cabinet.

It take the right tool for the job, and for Paul that meant a big plumber’s wrench. He’s a good son with lots of cool tools and he’s willing to work on things as long as he doesn’t have to go in the crawl-space. Nobody likes that crawl-space.

Who would have thought that the kid that I didn’t think would live past 17 because I would have been the one to kill him would have turned out to be a pretty fair plumber.

The cost to repair the sink was $40 for parts, $100 King Soopers card for Paul (long story), and $40 cash because someday, I plan on having a lurid gambling problem in the casinos at Black Hawk and drain my son of money, $40 at a time. Just like he’s done to me over the years.

The Klingons say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I think there’s something to be said for planning the menu ahead.

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