I knew that things had changed for me when I found myself dealing with plumbing contractors. Of course, I don’t speak Plumber, not even Pig Plumber, so trying to talk to a plumber about the things we want done in this old house has been a bit of an adventure. Being a typical guy, I don’t want to seem as if I have no idea, but the truth is that I have NO idea. I push the toilet handle, and if it roars to life and the bad stuff goes away, we’re good. If not…well, that’s kinda what got me here in the first place.
I don’t know galvanized from copper, PVC from Play-Doh, or a shut-off valve from a pressure valve. I’m a writer. I write about things I think I might understand, but when someone starts walking around the basement and talking about what happens when you run galvanized into copper (Isn’t that like matter meeting anti-matter??), he might just as well be talking about the warp drive on the USS Enterprise.
The first plumber came over Tuesday for a bid, and as he explained all the he was seeing, I could feel myself transforming from normally mild-mannered Jack into ADD Boy. Incapable of processing anything but the most basic and benign input, ADD Boy nods a lot and tries not to look overwhelmed, but too often it’s exceedingly difficult to camouflage. Usually it’s the deer-in-the-headlights blank stare that’s a dead giveaway, but after about 45 seconds we might as well be talking about cold fusion for all the information I’m (not) retaining.
Yesterday I was on my own for plumber #2. Having been through the drill on Tuesday, I felt as if I at least knew which questions to ask and when…but I don’t know why that mattered to me, because it wasn’t as if I retained any more information than I did on Tuesday. At one point, the plumber earnestly pointed his flashlight at a length of pipe on the basement ceiling and said, “I think we’re going to need to run some Wurlitzer up there.” At least I think that’s what he said, because all I could think was, “Why would we need an organ up there??” I nodded as if I understood and tried to look studious and intelligent, but I’m not sure I was able to pull either off successfully. In a few minutes he was out the door, and he probably didn’t even notice the “Translation, please??” look plastered on my furrowed brow.
In a day or two, we’ll probably have a couple of estimates to look at, and when Erin and I sit down to ponder the possibilities I hope to be able to decipher them and understand what the scope of work means. More likely, though, I’ll be hoping that I won’t wake up one morning to find the Bellagio fountain sitting in the front yard or a water slide in the basement. Lord only knows what I might be getting myself into….
