My husband is a programming engineer. In case you are not sure what that is, here is the definition I’ve come up with:
Programming engineer – Someone who takes your toilet apart in an attempt to fix it, and then leaves it lying in pieces on the bathroom floor for three weeks.
Luckily, we have another restroom to use until he finally tells me to call a plumber.
If our toilet had what he’d considered to be a major problem, I could have called a plumber as soon as we finished cussing about how much it was going to cost. But, to my great dismay, it was a minor problem that Michael deemed he could fix himself.
It may have been a minor problem until he started messing around with it. But, now our toilet is in pieces and I see no end to this madness in sight, because it has now become a matter of pride for him. Typing those words gave me chills. I am so afraid.
At the outset of what has become more of a hobby for Michael than a simple chore, he told me he just needed one little part. We went to Lowe’s and bought the part that very night. Then, we went back to Lowe’s for another part two nights later. A week after that, he was at Lowe’s again buying yet another piece for the puzzle that is our toilet.
He spent half the day yesterday wrestling with it and cursing at it. At one point, I was stupid enough to go into the bathroom and ask him how it was going. I got curious, because I kept hearing a splash and then a curse and then silence. He informed me that the toilet was spraying water onto the wall every time he flushed it.
We have wallpaper in there right now. We may not by the time this is all over. I knew I shouldn’t have asked.
Ladies, a word of advice. If you notice your toilet is running, jiggle the handle to make it stop. Then, take a sledge hammer to it before your husband sees it and decides to fix it. Sure, you’ll have to have a plumber come in to replace your toilet, but it will save you some grief in the long run.
*This may be my last post. He might just shut me down. Love to all.