Dearest Rachel –
So last Thursday evening, as I was preparing myself for bed, I sat down to use the toilet, when I noticed a strange sensation on my bare foot; the bathroom rug was damp, as was my foot. I quickly got up to inspect the situation, as that needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible.
At the same time, there wasn’t much to be done about the situation at that moment, being something like ten o’clock in the evening. I just mopped up the mess with one of those disinfecting wipes (which still left the floor a bit damp, but at least rendered it basically clean) and resolved to call the plumbers the next day and have them take care of the matter.
To be honest, my first instinct was that there was a leak between the floor and the pedestal that needed to be closed up – and my assumption as to how to go about doing that was to caulk the porcelain to the floor. And as much as that sounded like a fairly simple job, I still didn’t trust myself to do it right (and in any event, I don’t know if we own a caulk gun, or if we do, where it is and how to use it), so it was something better left to the professionals rather than running the risk of screwing it up.
Anyway, I did call them up bright and early on Friday, and got on their schedule for Monday morning, some time between eight and noon. Which meant informing Mom that I probably wouldn’t be in the ‘office’ at all yesterday, since if they didn’t show up until the later edge of that window (like they had the last couple of time), it wouldn’t be worth heading out for, only to turn around and pick Daniel up to go to church to set up the place for Sparks. So from a productivity angle, I’d prepared to write off the day, while at the same time knowing that most of my ‘office’ days aren’t exactly what one would call ‘productive,’ anyway, so nothing consequential would be lost by staying home.
What I didn’t expect was a notice yesterday at barely half past seven, saying that the serviceman was already on his way; and sure enough, the doorbell rang at just a little after eight, causing me to scramble to get it, lest our visitor wake Daniel. I showed him in, and indicated the puddle, which hadn’t gotten that much larger than when I’d taken a picture of it (although in fairness, I’d been wiping it up on a regular basis, as there was no point in dealing with getting feet and clothing damp on what trickled out).
The fellow pointed out that there was supposed to be a seal between the pedestal and the floor; over time, the thing had become perforated, resulting in the leak. I brought up my idea of caulking the two together, and he immediately reacted with mild horror, “Oh, no, that’s the last thing you’d want to do.”
And this is why I don’t trust my instincts. I didn’t follow the rest of his explanation, but I was almost pleased to have it confirmed that by doing something, I could have made things so much worse, and by calling a professional, the problem would be resolved correctly the first time, almost effortlessly. Granted, there are some that will say that this is exactly what a professional would say, to preserve their phony-baloney jobs, but why take that risk?
Besides, the fellow was in and out in less than an hour – and now, the pedestal doesn’t even rock (a problem we’ve also been dealing with for a few years, which might be connected to the addition of our roomer, but I don’t want to point fingers). Everything is squared away, and then some, for the price of a fancy meal with the gang.
I will say that, upon arriving at the store for a replacement nut, I was hoping to get a standard metal one. However, the clerk told me that I’d need to replace “everything,” which rather worried me; would a failed nut mean I had to get a new seat? Turned out, he just meant the full set of both plastic bolts and nuts, which while more than I thought I would need, wasn’t a great hardship in terms of cost, so that’s fine. At least that was a repair I could do – although I’m not a hundred percent sure that the original bolt isn’t somewhat stripped, so it might be a good thing to have the set after all.
Like I said, we have experts for a reason; as long as circumstances prove their expertise.
