The Fun Never Ends

The plumber has come and gone. He found a bathroom sink drain pipe that was leaking badly through a compro- mised solder joint, and left me with a pipe that is booted and clamped and apparently not leaking anymore.

He also left me with a hole in the plaster and lath at the back of the guest bedroom closet, and a cavity in my kitchen ceiling that looks like it was carved out by one of those dot-eating, maze-running entities in an early video game.

I'll have that to amuse me until sometime after Wednesday. That's how long I need to wait to make sure the pipe stays dry. If it does, I'm to call the home warranty company and they'll send the drywall guy (or gal) out to patch the holes. It'll be intriguing seeing how he deals with the one in the kitchen.

The plumber also showed me how closely my bathroom supply pipes hug the underside of the subfloor. Meaning that if I ever redo the bathroom flooring, it might be wise for me to avoid underlayments that require driving nails.

(U wantz leek, ai shohz u leek!!)

But the fun is not over! Oh my, no.

For shortly after the plumber left for his next appointment, I noticed there was water on the bathroom floor behind the pedestal of the sink. Oops! He'd said when he first came that there seemed to be a little-- had he gone back to look at it? Don't think so!

Letting the hot water run into the basin and down the drain, I got down on the floor and took a closer look. And a closer feel. Oh, dear, yes, the drain pipe is leaking, and it's leaking from the place where the stupid old crookedy pipe that comes down from the drainhole joins with the straight run to the trap.

Surprised I am not.

I hung an old hand towel in the bend of the trap to catch the drips, and called the plumber back.

He's returning tomorrow to try again. I wouldn't blame him if he just shoots the joint full of pipe dope.

And I wouldn't blame my dog if he decides this plumber is his permanent new playmate and his tools, his new fun toys.