You know the old adage “bad things come in threes?” Well, I hope that can be relied on because I’ve had my fill of holiday disasters. Now, I say holiday rather than Christmas because one of the following disasters happened the day after Christmas, not because I’m being politically correct. I don’t need no stinkin’ political correctness.
The first incident happened about a week before Christmas. I was in the bedroom minding my own business when …. hey, hey, hey, don’t get the wrong idea … I was folding clothes, which I do for the sure pleasure, when I heard an enormous crash in the bathroom. My first thought was a car had run off the road, through my back yard and into the back of my house. My second thought was … alien attack.
Well, it proved to be neither. Instead, the medicine cabinet had decided to disengage itself from the wall and fall onto the sink. I have still not been able to ascertain what made the medicine cabinet fall, but fall it did, shattering the mirror and several bottles of male smell enhancement, as well as breaking the faucet on the sink and apparently damaging a pipe underneath the sink. How the falling medicine cabinet damaged the pipe is still a mystery since there is a counter top of marble, still undamaged, between the falling cabinet and the pipe. I’m not sure, but I may have written off alien involvement a little too early.
Of course, I tackled the repairs myself, which, honestly, is not always a good thing. I got the damaged pipe uncoupled while breaking a different pipe in the process. It was then decided by the Mistress of the Manor that we call a plumber so as not to be forced to repair the entire plumbing system of the house. She knows how I roll. But, and I stress this, I did put up a new medicine cabinet and it is still there, or at least it was when I wrote this column.
Okay, it was smooth sailing for a few days, then the second crisis arose, on Christmas Eve, no less. We received the message that no homeowner wants to receive. Yes, we received an F-10 message on our range. I think we all know how serious this is. I rummaged through the hall closet until I found our files of guarantees, warranties and vital information concerning anything we had bought in the past 30 years. This took a while, but, low and behold, I found the info regarding our range.
It seemed simple at first, unplug the range for 15 minutes, reset the clock and press bake or broil, our choice. We chose bake, and halleluiah, it worked. However, later that night when the range was turned back on, the F-10 message returned. The Mistress of the Manor called Sears, mainly because she is good at breaking through phone defense systems, such as the one Sears has, and secured us some help, which was supposed to arrive on New Year’s Eve Day. Thanks to a couple of crock pots, the microwave and our trusty George Foreman super-duper grill, we have survived.
We thought the worst was over, but two days after the range had its meltdown, the kitchen sink faucet inexplicably broke, sending water flying all over the place. We had a virtual geyser. We managed to cut off the water underneath the sink, and after much wiping up of water and just as much cursing; I headed out into the night to purchase a new faucet. I returned from my assigned mission and just three grueling hours later … yes, three freaking hours later … we had a working faucet. I am a man of arts, not labor.
The following day, the Mistress of the Manor and I were discussing our travails, and she mentioned the old adage “bad things come in threes,” so maybe there would be no further misfortunes. She then told me not to have a heart attack. Now, this worries me, because I’m not sure if a heart attack can be lumped in with household misfortune. I mean, maybe a heart attack would be the start of a trio of health disasters. I’m just not sure if you can mix and match misfortunes. But for my own peace of mind, I am considering our …. Uuuuhhhhh. Just kidding, I’m okay.