Plumber’s Helper

My slop sink is dead.

Yep…dead dead dead…

It was one of those great old porcelain jobs that weigh about a ton, maybe two.  I think George Washington may have slopped there at one time or another. 

And of course, you know…they just don’t make em’ like that anymore.

New Plastic Sink

The new sink is made of plastic and looks like something that came from Barbie’s Dream house.

I guess we’ve been expecting this for a while now. It was as old as the house, which is 84 years old, and to be honest, we were lucky to have this one last year with it.

Now it's just a busted pile of porcelinin.

Poor Old Sink

It started leaking slowly, about a year or so ago, and, aside from slopping, it’s also where the washing machine empties out.  Now the leak was not so slow, and I couldn’t keep up with it, so I had to call Nardi, my plumber, who actually is an artist when it comes to plumbing.

Contrary to the secret plumber’s creed, Nardi’s actually saved me a lot of money through the years by really thinking through a job and figuring out the “best” way to fix something rather than just bulldozing his way through it, tearing up cabinets and tearing down walls. 

Nardi Hard at Work...trying not to curse.

He’s a genius that way (and I’m also hoping, that now he’ll knock a few hundred off my bill for being so nice to him).

And don’t get me wrong; through the years, by necessity, Nardi’s cost me a lot of money also…because, well… because, he is a plumber, and things need to be plumbed from time to time.

 But I’m happy to give it to him…mostly. 

Besides, I know he’ll just come over here and take it anyway, if I don’t, because he lives around the corner.

Actually, having a plumber right around the corner is pretty handy.  Or maybe I should say having Nardi right around the corner is pretty handy. 

Whenever there’s an emergency I know I can count on him showing up. In fact, one night, about 8 or 9 years ago, Z decided that she was going to snake out our bathtub drain, which had about a foot of standing water in it. And if you were to actually stand in the water, it was pretty disgusting.  

Of course, I was up in Stamford, shooting something for some Brits, about how executives can learn how to “talk real gooood” (actually the shoot was over and we were in an Irish Pub, having a wrap party). 

Anyway, to make a long story even longer, since the plumbing in this house is rather old, the snake went right through the “shoe” (the bathtubs, not Z’s). The good news is, the bathtub was now draining freely; the standing water was gone…but the bad news was, it had gone right into the light fixture in the kitchen ceiling below.

So the light began sparking, putting on a light show of sorts, so Z did the right thing and called 911, who sent over about 14 Port Chester fire trucks and a whole lot of fireman. 

Like I said, I wasn’t there; I was swigging a pint of stout, singing Irish songs of rebellion, which seemed to annoy the Brits for some reason.  So I can’t really say all that went on, exactly, but I do know that she asked the fireman to come in through the side door so they didn’t track up our new carpeting.  You know…priorities.

And they did!

Anyway, the point is, I finally answered my phone after ignoring about 4 previous calls, and boogied out of there in a panic (because I was concerned about the new carpeting myself).

I called Nardi at about 8:30 PM and left him a message that my kitchen ceiling was about to fall down!  Sure, enough, just as I pulled into my driveway and the last of the fire trucks had pulled away, who drives up, dressed in his Sunday best (well, maybe his Thursday best) is Nardi… and his brand new girlfriend on their very first date.

Sweaty Nardi

I recognized his date from when we were kids, a million years ago, and tried to warn her through discreet eye signals to get away as fast as she could.  But she didn’t, and ended up marrying him.

Go figure.
But it’s hard to find a good plumber, and I hear he gives her a small discount….

Anyway, that’s Nardi.  

I’m supposed to be helping him carry out the rest of my old beloved sink to his truck, right now, but I was busy with this and, oh geez, it looks like he got it all.

That’s okay. Every time I do help him out he ends up charging me extra for a Plumber’s Helper.

Gotta go.  I’m hearing strange sounds coming from the basement, not the least of which are words that you wouldn’t want your grandmother to hear.

Plus I think we’re getting Pizza.

That Nardi….

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