This much I know for sure: Home ownership is not for wimps! I have known this fact for ages, but I was reminded last weekend when I walked into my bathroom. There was an unpleasant smell. No, that is an understatement. My bathroom smelled like one I encountered in Panama in the summer of 1972. It was in a waterfront tavern where drunken sailors from around the country came to tank up before setting back out to sea. The bathroom should have been condemned. But I digress.
In hindsight, I was naive to think it was something as simple as a leaking commode. I noticed a crack in it a while back and when I showed it to my nephew Haven who is a plumber, he had several quips that are unsuited for a family newspaper. But after close inspection, he felt it was some kind of factory defect that we had not noticed when we installed it last year. “Keep an eye on it, and if it leaks, we’ll replace it,” he advised.
When I called him week before last after I discovered the stinky leak, he stopped by to check it out. Again, he had several “clever” remarks. I thought to myself, “He missed his calling. He should have been a comedian.” It was hard for me to smile much, because the leak oozed under the vinyl tile which complicated the problem. The foul-smelling flooring would have to come up.
He pulled out the commode and I headed to the big-box store for a new one along with the other things I would need to complete the repairs.
The plan took shape – all I needed to do was rip out the flooring, fan dry the bathroom, scrub the area with an industrial strength cleaner, and allow it to dry. After that, I would put down new flooring and set the new fixture. I thought we would be back to normal by Sunday night…but I thought wrong.
Sunday evening the subfloor was still damp, especially against the back wall. Moisture also seemed to be seeping out from under the shower stall. We began formulating “Plan B.” I scratched all the caulk from the seams of my walk-in shower.
After cleaning the seams with alcohol, I crawled around the bottom of the shower like a salamander squirting new caulk into cracks. The sealant smelled like the airplane glue we used to assemble model cars when I was a kid. After a few minutes of this, I got a buzz. A moment later I began seeing spiders and goats out of the corner of my eyes. “I need some fresh air,” I thought. Finishing the job took several other short sessions.
When this job was complete, I was satisfied the problem was resolved. Strike two.
The next morning there was more water in the corner.
I called the comedian and told him what I found. When he ran back by, he grinned as he said, “Looks like you got another leak.” I wanted to slap his jaws.
We pulled the fridge away from the wall and cut a hole in the sheetrock between the kitchen and bathroom. About halfway up where the pipes threaded through support studs, a tiny pinhole sprayed a little stream of water. Less than 10 minutes later the pipe was repaired, but then I had to start the long process of drying out everything and putting things back together. It would take a while.
Even though I cussed like a sailor for most of the afternoon, I could see light at the end of the tunnel. By next weekend, I should have my bathroom back in order.
Tonight I feel like I have gone 10 rounds with Mike Tyson. I' a going to take a hot bath and there is about a 98% chance that I will have a glass of wine sitting on the rim of the tub.
No, home ownership is not for wimps and I have learned that a sense of humor is an asset.
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Rick Watson is a columnist and author. His latest book Life Changes is available on Amazon.com. You can contact him via email at rick@rickwatson-writer.com
