Drip, drip, drip, the conclusion

11 Jan

“So what’s the problem?” I ask.

“Well, you see this bit here, on your bathtub? It’s what stops the water from overflowing from the tub.”

“Sure. The sink has one too. Most things do.”

“Right. Well, it looks like it got twisted upward, and the screw came a little loose, and water got into the plumber’s putty and ate through, and was leaking out of the pipe and downstairs. Easy fix.”

“Oh. Er. Good.”

And Mssr. Maintenance Man does not notice, in his busyness, the curious chargrined nature of the Master of the House, who has suddenly gotten much less chatty, and who is admitting only gently to the possibility that this was all his fault, since he figured out after first moving in that if he rotated that thing upward, he could get another two inches of water or so into his bath, which was very nice. But he is not going to tell anyone else about this, except for his wife, to whom he told the clever story of a vicious Giant who came in and fiddled with the tub while we were all away.

And the Master of the House forbids you to make fun of him for it, and hopes that it will come off as endearing, instead of twit-headed.


Posted by on January 11, 2008 in Uncategorized


27 responses to “Drip, drip, drip, the conclusion

  1. tjwriter

    January 11, 2008 at 10:38 am

    LOL! I think it’s cute. Who knew, right?

  2. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 10:42 am

    WIFE: …WHAT did you do?

    PETE: It wasn’t me! IT was Miguel, the giant, who was very bossy about how he wanted his bath, and anyway, we were gone!

    WIFE: The giant character from your circus novel did it??

    PETE: …it’s a carnival, not a circus.

    WIFE: …

    PETE: I love you?

    (okay, she wasn’t actually mad, she just chuckled. This is probably just what’s expected from being married to a writer who’s fuzzy on the inside of his head too)

  3. mymidnightmuse

    January 11, 2008 at 10:52 am

    Well I turned that stupid vent-thingie up the year I bought my house, aint’ hurt nothin’. I even had the plumber under there in 2000 and everything was just fine (my old clay sewer line wasn’t, hence the plumber under my house).

    My tub is 4 feet long. I’m 5’7″. I can’t stretch out, so I’m determined to gain that extra 2″ of water to have a decent soak!

  4. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 10:55 am

    I’m five-foot-…um…wossname. I think I’m about 5’8″ or so (I have no idea. I have probably shrunk, from bearing the heavy weight of my ART). And the tub is small, too. I suspect it had less to do with the vent being turned upward as just the plumber’s putty underneath being cracked. They aren’t the highest quality pipes down there. Anyway, now I know it’s a potential problem, I can keep an eye on it and fix it next time. I’m quite handy. Me and my mental acuity, we are very, you know, sharp, very on the, thingie, the ball. Oh yes. I expect to burn the house down any day now.

  5. Shadow T. Ferret

    January 11, 2008 at 10:57 am

    It never occured to either of you to just put some sort of puddy in the hole so you can fill the tub as high as you want?

    Just don’t, um, forget its running.

  6. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 10:58 am

    These days, when I take a bath, it’s because I’m stewing on a writing problem of some sort. And so I don’t think “ah, I should putty up this hole,” because mostly, my head is somewhere else.

    You can come putty up my hole, if you want.

    I am never going to say that again.

  7. Shadow T. Ferret

    January 11, 2008 at 11:05 am

    Ew. I’m going back to the cold food conversation.

  8. mymidnightmuse

    January 11, 2008 at 11:10 am

    I’m going to pretend I didn’t just read that.

    I tried to caulk that thing once, and it wouldn’t work. When I take a bath, it’s a mental thing – hot water, bubbles, and then I (stop laughing) lay back and am forced to put my feet halfway up the wall so I CAN lay back, and then I contemplate my novel.

    Sometimes fall asleep, but mostly contemplate my novel.

    Yes yes, with my feet halfway up the wall.

  9. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 11:16 am

    It wasn’t a crude joke! It was a metaphor! Ha ha!

    I read. I don’t always retain what I read, because I’m frequently focusing on my novel. I think I should read less and stare at the wall more. Mostly, I think it works because it’s an excuse to Be Still. It’s like sitting on the couch with nothing on and staring at the wall while you think. It’s the same sort of mental unlock that a good walk over familiar terrain can give you. But the bath works for me, because I’m not a naturally still person.

  10. Shadow T. Ferret

    January 11, 2008 at 11:19 am

    I’m actually jealous. It isn’t just that our tub isn’t long enough, it’s not WIDE enough. It’s so narrow in there that when we take showers we brush the wall and the glass doors with our arms. So think that the tub itself is several inches narrower than that and you have an idea of it. I have tried once to take a bath in the 2-1/2 years we’ve lived here and it was a totally unpleasant experience. And I used to take nearly a weekly bath at our townhouse because it had a huge tub and I could go in there with a beer and a cigar and a novel and just relax until I turned blue from the water going cold.

  11. mymidnightmuse

    January 11, 2008 at 11:29 am

    If there was any way we could rebuild our bathroom to give me a nice, long, deep soaking tub, I would. Our bathroom is so small, the joke is you have to step out in order to change your mind. But it’s situated in the center of the house, so no walls to take down or move – – so you do what ya gotta do. But whenever I’m at a hotel, and see those long, big tubs, I’m SO in there!

  12. Shadow T. Ferret

    January 11, 2008 at 11:31 am

    Yeah, but most hotel rooms are smokeless now.

  13. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 11:33 am

    Well, that proves not to be a problem, since I don’t chomp on big cigars, Ed. 😉

    My wife wants one of those big, circular tub-whirljet thingummies, when we get a house. Mostly, I’m okay with the idea, except that I look at them and can never figure out how to comfortably sprawl in one and still manage to read a book without submerging the silly thing.

  14. Shadow T. Ferret

    January 11, 2008 at 11:37 am

    *makes a note to introduce Pete to the world of sophistication and pretending to be Hemingway with a cigar*

    Those whirlpool tubs don’t look comfortable. The walls have all sorts of bumps and shelves and such. I’m also wondering how much bother it is to clean those jets.

  15. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 11:40 am

    Plus, I like sitting in a tranquil body of (rapidly cooling) water. I don’t get much enjoyment out of hottubs. I just sit and fidget and really wish I was in the nearby swimming pool, because it doesn’t take much to get me interested in swimming.

    No cigars for me, please. Granted, the Hemingway and J. Jonah Jameson angle makes it appealing, but the last thing I need is another addictive habit. 🙂 Plus, there was already one Hemingway, now I’ve got to try for something else.

  16. Shadow T. Ferret

    January 11, 2008 at 11:46 am

    Well I guess its addictive depending on your own self. I smoked cigarettes for 25 years, over 2 packs a day. That was an addiction. I quit when my wife was with first child and haven’t looked back.

    But cigars? They are a celebration of summer. I smoke maybe a cigar a week during the months of May, June, and part of July. (Why not the rest of July and August? Because sitting outside smoking a cigar in 90+ degree heat isn’t very pleasurable.)

    I haven’t had a cigar since the middle of July.

    But I won’t force them on you.

    J. Jonah Jameson, huh?

  17. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 11:51 am

    Jonah Jameson! Always chomping his cigar. If you’re going to smoke a cigar, you have to do it like him. 😀

    I addict to things very easily. I’ve always happily suspect that if I really got interested in liquor of any sort, I could fall into alcoholism pretty easily. It’s just how I’m wired. Fortunately, there’s something about the taste of fermentation (no matter what sort of drink it’s in) that I can’t get past, and so it’s not a danger.

    No middle gears here, remember. I either Don’t Do Something, or I eventually do it to excess. So it’s always been easier just to drink my tea, write my stories, try not to read too many blogs or spend time on too many forums, etc, etc.

    This is a ranging conversation, isn’t it?

  18. Shadow T. Ferret

    January 11, 2008 at 11:57 am

    Wide ranging, yes.

    I addict to things very easily too but I get bored with them just as easily. When I discover a new hobby, I throw myself in full-bore, buy all the required equipment, read all the books, become an expert geek on the subject, and then, probably because I overdid it, I lose interest. I get that way with authors, television shows, collecting, everything.

    Writing is the only one I keep coming back to on a regular basis.

  19. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 12:00 pm

    When I lose interest, I drop some things. mostly, it depends on if it involves people or not. I drop things less easily when other people are involved (which, I don’t mind telling, is why I stayed on AW longer than was good for me).

    I tend to stop easily, but I tend to start easily too, so it can be tricky. Like you, writing’s the only consistent thing I’ve been doing and enjoying for years and years now. Everything else changes, but I stick with reading and writing. That’s got to say something for it. 😀

  20. mymidnightmuse

    January 11, 2008 at 12:07 pm

    I get an idea for something, and I go nuts. Like this steampunk / stoneage keyboard. It will consume me until I’ve given it a serious go and failed, then I’ll be bummed and go back to my usual hobbies. Writing never suffers that, thank goodness.

    And while I don’t smoke, I am guilty of the occasional bit of rum in my coke. Or nice dessert wine. Or a Bahama Mama with dinner out – or Sangria. But alcoholism runs in my family, so I’m a real weenie, terribly careful, and have a two-drink maximum when I’m out eating dinner. A one drink max at home, and that’s only on a Friday or a Saturday. Never a “school” night.

  21. paprikapink

    January 11, 2008 at 12:39 pm

    If I blog about my bathtub, will I get 20 comments too?

    Hey, Pee-Dee, et al, you may be interested to know that at weird knick-knack shops you can get a plastic suction-cuppy thingamabob that is specifically made to cover that just-in-case drain-thing so that you can get more bath out of your tub.

  22. mymidnightmuse

    January 11, 2008 at 12:41 pm

    Cool! And yes. Blog about your bathtub, or painting a room in the nude, and you’ll get loads of comments 😀

  23. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 12:42 pm

    In order to get lots of comments about your bathtub, you first have to apparently….allow a pushy giant! to do something really stupid to the tub. Er. Cough.

    I’ve seen those suction-cup things, actually, I pointed it out to my wife. And then we considered a moment and realized what they look like (very strange, and possibly alarming) and decided against it.

    Anyway, being With Son, I infrequently get to take baths anymore. And when I do, I tend to stare at a book, or the wall, and then fall asleep in the tub with nothing usefully thought. I suspect until he’s older (and moved out) my bath days are done. (When he can entertain himself, then I have to worry about him entertaining himself by setting the house on fire, so no baths then. Maybe when I am embarassing and he’s trying to get a girlfriend, then that’ll be fine) (me taking baths will be fine, not him burning down the house)

  24. tjwriter

    January 11, 2008 at 12:58 pm

    As soon as he is a teenager and wants nothing do with you, you can enjoy the bath again. That’s how it works. Glued to you for several years and then suddenly you’re yesterday’s news and totally uncool.

  25. Pete Tzinski

    January 11, 2008 at 1:01 pm

    Well, I’ve been a shaggy, amiable, writerly guy who is entirely uncool for quite a lot of years now, so when he declares how much I Lack Cool, it’s hardly going to come as a surprise to anyone.

    (he already likes his mother quite a lot more than me)

  26. tjwriter

    January 11, 2008 at 2:06 pm

    Alas, when dear sweet child announce how odd I am, it will hardly be breaking news.

  27. Shadow Ferret

    January 12, 2008 at 8:27 am

    Methinks my children are already aware of just how odd their father is. There will be no “teen enlightenment” period where I become uncool, although the fact that they think I’m funny might change to one of shame. “Mom! Tell Dad to stop embarrassing me in from of my friends.” And I’ll go, “What? You used to appreciate my interpretation on the Ministry of Silly Walks.”


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