It might just be me, but every so often, something triggers my memory, and I am compelled to pronounce, over and over, in a Brooklyn accent, "It's the plumber, I've come to fix the sink!" (Click the link! You'll be glad you did!)
Well, today, I had to call the plumber... to fix the toilet.
The annoying noise, that we have been living with for months, finally transformed into a full-fledged leak. With my parents visiting, we are seven people. One working toilet is not enough!
In theory we have three toilets, but the bathroom in our room has been broken since we moved in. The first plumber who "fixed" it, never finished the job, and, we found out later, actually drilled through one of the water pipes for our radiator. The second plumber fixed the broken pipe and did some other work in the bathroom, but he also never finished the job. As is, the bathroom cannot be used. I ran after both plumbers for a while, before I gave up. I figured I would get back to it, once I finished with the cancer. Well, we know how that turned out....
So today, we called a different plumber.
When he rang the bell, I promplty prounounced: "It's the plumber, he's come to fix the....toilet!"
What can I say? I amuse myself!
Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.
With love and optimism,
Brahms, take two. It's a wrap.
2 hours ago