This was to replace the old Price Pfister single-handled faucet that was on the sink when I bought the house five years ago, and which, alas! leaked so badly that the borough water board suggested it might explain why my bill was up in the winter, a time whose voice doth not call forth the watering of lawns.
A year or two before that, the plumber who came to replace my water heater gave me a price to put it in, if I bought the faucet myself.
So as of March 2007 I'd found the faucet, but it languished in the dark depths of my basement workshop for many months, first because I was contemplating replacing the kitchen sink at the same time, and then because there was not money lying around to pay plumbers for work that was not an emergency.
A few weeks ago, Steve*, the husband of my friend Hannah*, offered to install my new faucet for me. Steve's* adventures working on two separate houses would make great house bloggery, if he had the time.
He does not have the time, and for a long while, he didn't have the time to come install my faucet, either.
But at last, the great event was set for 9:00 this morning. Huzzah!
Which turned into 10:30, because Steve* was delayed at the scrap metal dealers, driving a bargain for various pieces of copper and so on removed from his own house. Heralded by ferociously hospitable barking by my dog, he arrived and set to work.
While Steve* went over the installation instructions for the new American-Standard faucet, I worked diligently to get the old lime build-up off the back rim of my stainless steel sink. It was worth it, even if the new escutcheon would have covered a lot of it.
By then, the cabinet under the sink will still be vile, but not so wet.
To be continued . . .
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