The zen of plumbing

The monumentally (emphasis on “mental”) ill-advised mission to refit the bathroom continues. Regular readers will recall that this adventure began with a well-intentioned attempt to repair a drippy faucet. Things went from drippy faucet to bathroom armeggedon right quick. But at least we finally got rid of the last galvanized water pipe in this 100 year plus farm house. Today the new bathtub arrived at the end of the drive, a mere three days after the three week delivery window specified in the sales contract. Whatever. At least it’s on site now, and I can get on with its precise placement and the fitting of faucets, drains, etc. Back in the old days, I would have called a plumber. But I’m retired now. I got a lotta time on my hands, and I need things to occuppy my time that don’t include a screen and a keyboard. Plumbing is actually a necessary condition for civilization, and it should be treated as such. It needs a lot more respect. Pipes that make your sinks work and your toilet flush are the fulcrum on which civilization teeters. If you didn’t have plumbing and plumbers, the coders and the programmers and the experts would have to live somewhere else. Either that, or figure out how to install a toilet. Or a bathtub, in my case.