**FOUL LANGUAGE WARNING**
They were both so proud of their work and when I came home my proud husband demonstrated the beautiful new pipes in the basement. I smiled and observed as he flushed the downstairs toilet and we all admired the slick whoosh of water traveling efficiently toward our septic tank.
"DALE!!!!!! THERE'S S**T FALLING FROM THE CEILING DOWN HERE!!!!"
He came running down to see how I could have possibly broken the new system with one poop and a flush . . . .
. . . . when he realized his error. I was already on the phone screaming at Bob, "Robert, there is shit falling from my ceiling!Get over here right now and fix it!"
Bob knew what happened as soon as he heard my shrieking and simply said, "I'm on my way."
They had cut the pipe from the upstairs toilet in order to re-route the downstairs toilet and failed to cap the lower end of the cut pipe. I called my father in complete drama queen mode. It remains the only time in my 25+ years living with Dale that I threatened to take the children and go to a hotel for the night. He was not invited to join us. Bob arrived and calmly started on the fix and I calmed down and put the boys to bed and had a beer.
Fast forward to more recent events.
** Dale has demonstrated that he is NOT a plumber **
He and Bob recently replaced our hot water heater and our water softener. Dale immediately plugged up the brand new water softener by using the left-over salt. When the softener ceased to function he discovered the salt had caked into a solid mass, plugging up the system. He said "I guess you're supposed to use the pellets." I asked "What pellets?" "The kind it says you're supposed to use in the directions." Wait a minute! (I think you get the drift . . . )
We have also been experiencing a complete lack of water pressure in all of the sinks, hot water is almost non-existent in said sinks, and the showers on both floors are not much better. I've been whining about it for months. The boys have complained. I had a melt-down about it last week and Dale shrugged it off with a comment like, "at least we have water. . . ."
"I'm gonna call a damn plumber," I pledged. But Dale said he would try replacing the fixtures because he thought that since they were leaky that was the problem.
So tonight, after the bathroom fixture was in place, and was displaying an impressive stream of pressurized hot water, Dale moved on to the kitchen sink in the wake of his initial success.
So who knows the best plumber?
And which of you has the best shower? I'll be over first thing in the morning!