Re-run II

John is traveling. This essay appeared May 13, 2017

It’s a cool morning in the Hill Country with still air full of birdsong. It should heat up later today. Fixed a toilet yesterday. I replaced a fill valve. Eight years’ worth of calcium deposits rendered it inoperable. The valve had been hinting for some time that it needed to be replaced. It made a really high pitched whistle whenever it refilled, and it did it at odd times. I finally had to address the issue when it refused to shut off when the tank was filled. It just kept running. The procedure went smoothly. I felt manly when the job was completed. Probably a misplaced feeling since the job was relatively simple. I guess anytime you fix a toilet it feels good.

I remember once in college we lived in a rent house. The toilet was really slow to flush and drain. I should have called our landlord. She was a nice lady and friend of the family, but I decided to fix it myself. The job involved removing the toilet from its mounts on the floor. As I investigated, I realized a tree root had grown up through the slab and into the drain pipe. I pulled out about four feet of fibrous root ball. I pulled it out, cut it off, replaced the wax seal, tightened up the toilet and we were back in business. I felt good, then, too.

No word on how my wife felt. She must have appreciated it. She stuck around.  Who could pass up living with a handyman? I guess you could pass it up for a rich guy who could hire a handyman. But she didn’t. She stuck with a paycheck-to-paycheck guy who could rebuild carburetors, replace brake pads, build bookshelves, manage septic systems, replace broken wells, and make our scruffy little homes habitable. Now, here we are, two old people counting out exact change in the checkout line at the grocery store.