“The difference between fiction and reality is that fiction has to make sense.” ~ Tom Clancy
Right. The bathtub faucet started running uncontrollably today, mere moments after I had a conversation about when the water might be turned on at the new house.
Anywhere else, that would not be a big deal, but this old house (which might be feeling peckish because it’s soon to be abandoned for the new one up the hill) is about one hundred years old, and that tub stopped draining properly about a year ago. Plus, water tends to run on its own, here and there, in that bathroom. I blame the cats. Or a ghost. Never been a problem before.
But this time the water was gushing uncontrollably. The water was not draining. And when I merely grazed the faucet with my hand, it popped off the wall.
I turned off the water for the entire house (and let me tell you, there’s a reason I never go into the basement), went to hardware store to buy a cap for the newly exposed pipe, but when I got home I realized there’s a plastic sheath around the darn thing that was probably glued on fifty years ago. Couldn’t get it off. Made the pipe too large for the cap. Hardware store closed.
Water still not turned on. Hoping this is not evidence that the pipes froze. Any advice? (Yes, I should call a plumber. And I will.)
On top of that, the street light has gone out, casting the entire front yard in absolute darkness. Walking the dogs felt like a scene from a horror movie with some stereotypical naive chick in her pajamas mumbling to her poodle while a werewolf hunches behind a tree. Rar!