We had been in the bungalow for three days. Sadie was also in residence, a very happy dog, poking her nose into all the places an old yard hides. Stanley had been eyeing the cottage, collecting laminate, and charting out a schedule. I had been placing stuff in cupboards and cleaning. At the end of one very long and productive day, we finally took showers and prepared to relax. That’s when the toilets stopped flushing.
It’s a night we will forget as soon as we can. We suddenly felt like the strangers we were. No plumber to call, we sat wondering how bad this would be. The next morning, we planned to go to Miner’s Ace Hardware and ask for referrals. On the way we saw this sign: I Am A Plumber Looking For Work. Sounded just right. Stanley made the call, and in five minutes time, we had a semi-diagnostic, an estimate for the job, and a two-hour window before the plumber, Dave, would show up at the bungalow.
We took a walk on the beach.
For the next two days, the smells, the open holes in the grass, the dislike Sadie took to the plumbers, and the splashing of brown stuff (mud, I’ve convinced myself) dumped us unceremoniously onto a sensory overload. But the job got done and the price was reasonable. Dave is a great plumber – he purposely named his business “I Am A Plumber Looking For Work” and is as honest as that name implies. Of course, you can’t invite a good plumber into your home and expect he won’t find more things that need repair. So we have become very friendly with Dave, the life-saving plumber, and Gary, his apprentice. They will be around, pulling up old pipes and capping unused gas lines for a while. Thank Goodness.