Weeks ago, our friends D&D; offered to host a coming out party of sorts for 3B, since we’re clearly too busy, disorganized, or absent minded to do so ourselves. They pointed out that 3B hadn’t met a number of local friends yet, and he’s almost a year old.
We decided to have a brunch party today at noon, which was the mostly likely day on everyone’s calendar, and a pretty good time in 3B’s two-nap-a-day schedule. It made a somewhat busy weekend for us, since we just had our favorite photographer and his family over for dinner last night, but since we weren’t hosting today’s brunch, we figured that we could swing it.
And we were doing fine, until our neighbor from downstairs knocked on our door at 6:30 this morning and said that water was coming down through their bathroom ceiling. Their bathroom is right below our bathroom, which means that the leak was coming from our bathroom. Specifically, from our toilet. Hey, good morning, sorry about flushing our toilet into your bathroom ceiling. They were very nice about everything, and we had a pleasant conversation in their bathroom as the water from our toilet dripped out of their ceiling and exhaust fan.
We called the plumber, Karl, who recently fixed the pipes under our kitchen sink, which rotted away just months after our kitchen remodeling contractor installed them. Fortunately, he said that he could be here at noon, and that he was pretty sure, from our description, that it would be a quick fix of a broken flange.
Good news for us, but it kind of put a damper on our party plans. Specifically, on my party plans, since we decided that I’d wait here with the plumber while Mama and 3B went to the party. Mama tried to convince me that I should go, but I pointed out my lack of lactation capability, which pretty much closed the conversation.
Since we had some time on our hands, and since we had both just chugged our iced coffees, we headed right out to Brugger’s to make a pit stop and to pick up some bagels for the party as well as one for 3B to eat as we drove to Giant to pick up some fruit for a salad. After we got home, we put 3B down for his nap and waited for Karl to arrive and for 3B to wake up. Karl got here right at noon, and eventually we decided to wake 3B up at 12:20. We’d rather he got up on his own, but he’d been down for three hours, which is a pretty good stretch.
So, now I’m hanging out here with an open sewer pipe and Karl, who says that it’s much worse than he thought–there was no flange on the pipe at all, the previous owner had just mounted the toilet directly to the drain pipe. Eventually, the wax ring had worn away and been flushed down the pipe. “I’m sorry to say it, but the previous owner knew what they were doing. They stiffed you.” I explained that it wasn’t the first time we found that out. He’s drilling holes for the new flange now, and should be done soon. After I sign over 3B’s freshman year college tuition to Karl for coming out on a Sunday, I’ll be headed down to the party myself. You think that I’ll get a reduced weekend rate, since it’s a rainy, muggy day?
All we have to do after that is replace our downstairs neighbor’s bathroom ceiling–looks like community college for 3B’s first two years. And continue genuflecting in their general direction every time we see them.
Sorry again about flushing our toilet on your heads and all.
Woo hoo. Party.
P.S. In the meantime, I’m reading today’s NYTimes magazine article about my favorite jukebox pollster candidate. Sure, I could be reading the articles about dangerous games for boys or starting ages for kindergarten, but that would take all the surprise out of parenting. What’s the fun in that?