It was the ugly vanity to end all ugly vanities, and after more than 20 years of gracing the tiny downstairs bathroom, it had to go. So there we were, finally attacking the floor in the bathroom. We’d ripped out the two layers of vinyl and paper-thin plywood to expose the wood floors hidden underneath. All that remained was whatever existed underneath the toilet and the vanity.
So…taking a deep breath, the hubs and I attempted to turn off the water under the sink to see if we could remove the single most offensive piece of furniture in our house. I’m not making this up. If there were a competition for ugly vanities, this one would win…hands down.
We’re not plumbers. We’re not really even wanna-be plumbers, but we (I) sometimes think I can do things I really can’t. So we turned the water back on and decided to hold off until our favorite plumber was available.
So the next morning — Sunday, of course — and just 30 minutes before the church picnic was to begin, I hopped into the shower. That’s when all you-kn0w-what broke loose. There was — according to the hubs — a leak under the vanity and he was — unsuccessfully — trying to locate the place to turn off the main water line.
Leaving a message on our plumber’s emergency line, the hubs hightailed it across the street to fetch the neighborhood man of all trades. He who can fix all. Phil came running in, a grin on his face, and a huge toolkit at his side. He assured us we didn’t need the plumber, that he could do this. He was right. Within 10 minutes, they’d located the turn-off valve.
In the meantime, I inspected the toilet, wondering if I could follow my sister-in-law’s instructions for removing it. Her directions had seemed SO easy two months earlier. I knew how to turn off the water supply and I knew I’d have to replace the seal. But getting that heavy thing out flummoxed me.
Re-enter Phil, the fixer. Did I want his help removing it? Okay, by this time, I’d lost all my pride. All I could do was grin like a goofball. Within minutes, he and the hubs had the toilet in the garage.
As he packed up his tools, I asked what we owed him. The classic Phil response… “Nothing. I like to help my neighbors.” Someday, I’ll figure out how to repay him.
In the meantime, we’re gradually beginning to believe that this project may end. It’s a slow process but when we get the sander in place, it’ll move quickly. And someday…we’ll have a nice, smooth, wood floor on which to stand while we cook.