“Hey O, I need
some help,” said the answering machine.
Have to respond. After all, I am
deeply indebted to Bill for all kinds of help, not to mention the tool loans
over the years.
“What’s up?” I
asked when I managed to get him on the phone.
Since he had retired from teaching, I didn’t see him every day as in the
old days, sometimes as seldom as twice a month at Lions meetings.
“We’re remodeling
the laundry room, rearranging things. I
need a plumber.” I stopped by the next
day after school. He had moved the
washer and dryer. He had the dryer vent
all done, the 220 volt receptacle wired and in place. He had the water for the washing machine
moved to his liking. What he hadn’t done
was the drain-vent pipe. He had the hole
cut through the floor for the drain. He
had the hole marked where the vent would go through the ceiling.
What was lacking
was the drain with the standpipe and trap to drain the washer, and the vent
that would serve the washing machine drain and protect the drain trap from
being siphoned dry. We agreed I would
stop by the next day after school and do the plumbing, and Bill would cut the
hole through ceiling and roof to accommodate the vent pipe. It would all be ready when I got there.
The next day, I
threw in a pair of coveralls as I headed out for my day teaching school. I knew from experience that if I went home
after school, changed clothes and returned to Bill’s place, it could be late in
the evening before I finished the job, especially if we ran into trouble,
always a possibility where plumbing is involved. There wasn’t much dirty work involved, as the
cutting and crawling into the crawl space should all be done.
It was done, too. The drainpipe extended up through the floor a
couple of inches, enough to get a tee glued onto it. The hole in the ceiling was there, too, lined
up with the drainpipe coming up through the floor. The water lines were installed into the
washing machine box. All that was left
was to cut and fit the drainpipe.
I donned my
coveralls, and set to work. But Bill
wasn’t there. He had gone to get
something, Jeanie said. With a coupling
and a short piece of PVC pipe, I extended the drainpipe up high enough to make
room for the trap. I lined the trap up
so the standpipe went up to the fitting in the washing machine box, cut, fitted,
and glued the trap and its connecting pipes.
All that was left was the pipe through the ceiling and roof.
The entire job
took less than 45 minutes. I was done. The washing machine was plumbed. Bill still
wasn’t there. I removed coveralls and
visited with Jeanie for a while, but still, no Bill. I needed to get going, so I said, as sort of
a joke, “Tell Bill when he gets home that you just got tired of waiting for him
to get the job done, so you went ahead and did it yourself.”
A few days
later, I ran into Bill. “Boy, do you
have one coming from me!” was my greeting from him.
“What are you
talking about?”
“You know,” he
said. I began to suspect, but I feigned
ignorance. “Putting Jean up to telling
me she did that plumbing job.” Oh.
I didn’t press
for an explanation. The next time we all
got together, we had a good laugh at Bill’s expense, but I needed to know the
details.
“I told him I got
tired of waiting for him to get the job done so I did it myself. Then he showed the pipes to everybody that came
in and told them how I did it all by myself.
He had them admire how straight everything was and how proud of me he
was. So I had to tell him the truth so
he would quit embarrassing me.” Oh,
again.
The law of
unintended consequences surfaces again. The little lie was supposed to shame him into wondering
why he couldn’t have done the job himself.
Pride wasn’t supposed to be part of it.
I’m sure Bill
retaliated. I don’t remember how,
exactly. After all, there are quite a
few examples of him pulling a practical joke on me, too many to know just which
one served for that incident.
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