The Pipe

My hands are still recuperating from my battles with the plumbing snake. I haven’t been able to play the guitar or bass without experiencing discomfort in my fingers, that being said, yesterday I decided to tackle another plumbing job.

            I wanted to make a modification to the water line that runs to my cabin. The plan was to install a shut off valve just in case of an emergency. It’s always nice to have a shut off valve. I’m not a plumber but I know enough to turn off the main water line before removing pipes, and in this instance I needed to remove a small section of pipe to attach the shut off valve.

I located the water main, and tried twice to shut it off, but I couldn’t get a good grip on it and wasn’t able to turn it. I spent half the day trying to figure out a way to get my hands in a position to shut it off. I finally I said “phuck it!”

            The new plan was to remove the pipe that needed to be removed and to quickly cap the flowing water with the shut off valve that I wanted to install. It wasn’t the best way to do it, but I figured what the heck a little water wasn’t going to kill me. It would just take a second the water would rush out and I’d stick the valve on and that would be that.

            The plan was working beautifully. I got the pipe to turn and it was coming off. I had the shut off valve at my side. Water started to spill out of the pipe. I predicted that much.  When I removed the pipe completely the water gushed out faster and at more volume than I anticipated. No big deal. I reached for the valve and placed it on the threaded pipe, all I had to do was screw the valve on and the job would be complete. Easy.

I placed the valve on the pipe and started to turn. The water was spraying about pretty good. It was spraying onto my cloths and in my face. I screwed the valve on but it didn’t fit right. The more I wiggled it the more water sprayed into my face. My clothes were drenched. The water was spraying everywhere. I started to panic. The only way to turn this thing off was to cap it, but it wasn’t cooperating with me. I fiddled with the valve and tried more than one way to get it on there. Plan B! Reattach existing pipe. I was working quickly. There was water gushing everywhere. My shoes were soaked. The dirt was turning to mud. The water was racing down hill. The situation was uncontrollable. I needed to cap it, and fast. I had my own version of the Deep Water Horizon on my hands. Plan B didn’t work. Abort! Plan C! There was an idle faucet nearby. The faucet was part of another plan altogether, but I needed it. I rushed toward the faucet. My foot hit a slippery patch in the mud. I fell to the ground. Now I was covered in mud. I gathered myself. I found the faucet. I stumbled back to the pipe. Water everywhere. I put the faucet onto the pipe. Water was spraying in my face. I fought through it. I got the faucet to wrap around the pipe. I screwed it on as fast as I could. It shut off. The situation was secure.

I stood there for a moment in quiet contemplation. I was water soaked, but not defeated. 

The Miser

My lady friend’s landlord is a miser. My last landlord was a miser. My landlord before last was a miser, and the one before that. Maybe its just coincidence, or maybe being a miser is a prerequisite to being a landlord.

            I spent the morning trying to unplug my lady friend’s bathroom sink. Her landlord, who she shares the house with, is too cheap to hire a plumber to remedy the problem. Whenever my friend has problem, be it plumbing or otherwise, I’m pressed into service. It’s my own choice. It’s to give myself peace. Otherwise, I’ll have to listen to the constant complaining, the back and forth banter between the landlord and my friend. It approaches the ridiculous. 

This morning I ran a snake down the pipe to unclog the sink. I rubbed my hands raw trying get that snake down the pipe. My musical hands were to the point of blistering. I quickly became bitter and agitated when I realized that I was directly contributing to the behavior of a miser. My woman friend felt guilty when she saw me struggling with the snake. She kept patting me on the back while I was working and expressed how grateful she was for my efforts. After her third visit to me I simply told her to "get out!"

            I doesn’t pay to be a miser, it just increases your hardship and prolongs your problems. Fix it! Do it right! Pay a professional! Buy organic! If you take care of it, it goes away, if you pinch your pennies it stays with you, or even worse it comes back to haunt you again.

            I was on my way home when I received a text message from my friend, the text read, “guess what? The landlords sink is clogged too.” 

The Moth Raccoon

Last night I saved two moths and what looked like a mosquito. I felt sorry for the mosquito. I captured him with a jar. I was going to leave him there to die, but I soon realized that his presence was going to affect my sleep so I let him go. The moths were nice looking. Blue in color. I’m not sure how they got into my cabin  or when, but they did. They’re mysterious little creatures. Strange looking up close. 

Later in the evening I heard rustling outside. A critter was moving among the leaves. He was looking for bugs I presumed. A short time later the critter was walking quietly on my roof. He came down from the roof and boldly scratched at my French doors. I peeled back the curtains and shined a light on him. It was a cute looking raccoon. He had a look of innocence on his face, but I knew better, there was nothing innocent about him. He tried to run his paws underneath my door, but the crack was too narrow. I let him be. I went back to my computer. It was two in the morning, quiet, except for him. The raccoon was having a great time in the leaves. He was thrusting about playfully. Scratching, digging. He was ruining my peace. I finally said something to him. The rustling had reached the state of obnoxious.

I opened my door and pointed my flashlight at him. He looked up innocent.

“Hey, hey, hey, keep it down over there!”

Hyacinth House

I’m here at my cabin on a Sunday night. I spent part of the day with my lady friend. Her sister and stepfather have a furniture store and art gallery on third street. My lady friend works there for a few hours once a month just to help out. I sat around there for part of the afternoon, and admired the paintings. I ate some walnuts, and checked my girls oil before driving home to my cabin. I was feeling sort of blue today. I’m not sure why. Maybe I have too much time on my hands, or maybe it’s okay to feel blue every now and again.

            Yesterday I had rehearsal with the cover band. We seemed to be getting progressively worse. Some of the songs sound good, while others are hit and miss. I want to play some blues tunes to make things easier on us, but our drummer doesn’t like to play shuffle beats. I grew tired of trying to find blues songs that didn’t have a shuffle beat. I finally told him, that it was his job to find the blues songs without the shuffle’s. He said there was a Doors tune that had drums without a shuffle, but he couldn’t remember the name of it. He said it was on the L.A. Woman album. I took the time to look for it, and stumbled upon a song called Hyacinth House. What a beautiful song. I had to learn it. I picked up my guitar and spent the morning plucking it out. It’s the simple songs that get me, they rub between my soul and my heart and make me feel warm. It feels good to play it.