Flowing Streams Aren’t a Homeowner’s Friend

Two things scare me: snakes and plumbing. I hate facing either one, although reptiles slither away if given the opportunity. Plumbing problems, on the other hand, are like the 800-pound gorilla in the room. They never get better by themselves, they only get worse, and they always happen at the least opportune times.
Of late, while listening to the police scanner, mental images of cascading rivers flowing from summer homes have filled my mind. In some cases, local fire departments have been summoned to address the problem. In all cases, my stigma about plumbing problems had not abated.
Frigid temperatures are the culprit with those water leaks. Folks shut up their summer abodes in late summer or fall when temperatures are bouncing around in the 70s or 80s. There’s certainly no problem with water and pipes in weather like that. But in single-digit weather, a small leak can ruin a condo or summer home almost like a fire. Never having had a second home to close for the winter, it’s a problem I can’t comprehend.
Listening to the police scanner makes me never want to own a second home where weather is a factor.
For instance, there was a call Feb. 18 on one of the barrier islands. The fire department was called because there was water showing. Firefighters secured the water flow, and the dispatcher called the owner. He wanted to know how bad the leak was. All they could tell him was that they had turned the water off, and that it had leaked into the ceiling below.
Let your mind imagine the mess that awaited that homeowner. Wouldn’t it turn a peachy day into a hellish nightmare in about 30 seconds? And that was not an isolated call, it happened many times through the day in other towns.
I tried to think who might be beneficiaries of the terrible cold snap we experienced over the Presidents Day Weekend and beyond. It seems that plumbers and heating contractors probably had more work than they could handle, at ungodly hours of the day and night. As the old saw goes, “Everybody gets famous for 15 minutes.” Well, that was their 15 minutes.
Others who probably will be making some cash in the wake of the single-digit temperatures are public adjusters and folks who are willing to work for cash to tear water-logged homes and units apart in the wake of insurance claims.
Few can imagine what a little drip or tiny leak can do, but over time, that little drop of water accumulates lots of friends, and pretty soon, they make their way to the lowest part of anyplace. They don’t care if it’s down a wire or pipe, over the wall or onto the carpet and down into the garage, those tiny water drops will find their way to freedom one way or another.
Back to my plumbing phobia. Recently, I had to make a stop at the nearby home supply store for a toilet flapper. It’s that little gadget that is pulled up by the handle to let water pass when it’s flushed. After watching a couple of YouTube videos, (they make everything look so easy) I was reassured such a minor repair would take less than five minutes, even for a klutz like me.
My blood pressure, normally very low, surged. I could feel it in my face. “Be a man, fix the toilet!” a little voice said from within.
Mustering all my courage, I marched down the Plumbing Aisle. I could feel the copper pipes staring at me. “Look who’s comin’ to see us boys! It’s him. Hey Flusher, give ‘im a scare!” I could imagine them yelling as I strolled past faucets, sleeves and valves for who knows what.
Finally, there I was, facing a wide assortment of toilet flappers of varying sizes, colors, and prices. I dared not turn left or right to other men also in the Plumbing Aisle.
This was something a guy has to do alone, all alone, pick out his own toilet flapper. I must have looked at every one at least a half dozen times. Finally, I opted for one that claimed to be “Universal.” Honestly, the choice was worse than picking out a box of cereal, so many from which to choose. What if I picked the wrong one and the water would not stop running? I began to fret, and just then, I cast fate to the wind. I decided a universal flapper would fit or else.
Well, Al the Plumber I will never be, but I snapped the flapper on, turned on the water supply and presto, it worked. I almost passed out with fright. Unconvinced, to this day, every time I flush the toilet I wonder, “Is this the time it won’t work?”
Thank goodness there are men who fearlessly face dripping, ruptured pipes and gushing geysers with aplomb. In times like these, those chaps are worth their weight in copper and PVC. What would we do without ‘em?