I’ve been banned from anything that requires water. I’m not sure what I’ll do with the time made available by that edict, but I’m likely to do it alone after not showering for a few days.
Imagine a Norman Rockwell print: wife standing at the kitchen sink washing vegetables for the evening meal, while enjoying conversation with the husband, who’s at the table with a cold beverage. She’s laughing at something the husband said, while jumping backwards in surprise as water sprays from underneath a closed cabinet onto her feet.
I’m no plumber, but I knew it wasn’t good. My personal fix-it man rushed to my rescue, turned off the water (I was too busy looking to see where it was coming from), and brought towels to soak it all up. He despises plumbing, but deserves an honorary license, as his bride and offspring provide ample on-the-job training.
He immediately diagnosed the problem as a hole in the garbage disposal. Weeks prior to this episode, while under the sink muttering sweet nothings as he removed potato peels from the gooseneck (again), he’d warned that the metal on the disposal was deteriorating and wouldn’t last much longer. I made a mental note of it, and upon sleeping, forever purged that information. It’s not my department.
As Jeff and our younger son embarked on a field trip to Lowe’s, I started the wet towels washing, and began mentally preparing myself for the misery coming down the pipes. (As an experienced plumber’s helper, I know these projects never go smoothly.) Then, through some sick twist of fate, the washing machine sprung a leak, and made a puddle on the laundry-room floor. Not good. I had enough presence of mind to keep that information to myself in spite of the fact that current technology would’ve allowed me to disclose the problem immediately to the man in charge of these matters.
I’m happy to report the garbage disposal replacement went flawlessly; it works, and it was replaced in less than half an hour. I was mighty impressed, and he puffed up like a peacock when I told him so. He didn’t strut for long, and I bet you know why.
The man, whose work is truly never done, took the washing machine apart, found a cracked pump, perused his favorite website for replacement parts, and announced the old washer wasn’t worth fixing. Hundreds of dollars, and hours later, a shiny new Whirlpool took the place of the leaker.
I know you’re all wondering what flour has to do with any of the above. Well, the rainy-day fund needs to be reimbursed, and the grocery budget is usually the first to get the ax. A well-meaning friend sent me to check out www.hillbillyhousewife.com for ideas. It’s a must-see, ladies. You’ll find some good information, and get a few chuckles to boot. I discovered I could feed my family for a week by cooking everything from scratch with a bag of flour, and a few other items, for a mere $45! I think I just figured out what to do with that extra time, but I’ll need my access to water reinstated.
© 2008 Natalie Whatley
Tags: cutting grocery budget, plumbing leaks, rainy day fund