Apples and Basket of Eggs, Jean-Baptiste-Simeon Chardin
Saturday night my toilet decided to run away from home. In an effort to persuade it to stop running, I tweaked the water ball, accidentally snapping it off, a bad break. So there I stood, water ball in hand, water tank rapidly filling, much loud hissing and burbling going on, and panic setting in–until I realized I could turn off the water.
Sunday I forayed to that huge warehouse store with the wide, wandering aisles, where you need 3 days water supply and trail mix, to find a new fill valve. Home again, having escaped those cavernous aisles without need of Fraulein Garmin, I set about repairing my toilet. Yeah well, not that I have anything against plumbers, but, y’know, there’s that $150 for 20 minutes issue. And guess what–I fixed my toilet–two hours later sure but Christmas is coming, I need my $150. And I could of had it done in an hour if I hadn’t been flumoxxed by this rubber-angle-nut-bolt thingy that I was supposed to take apart and the rubber thingy had to go in the tank first–this meant my unscrewing everything and starting over. However(!) the toilet is no longer trying to escape and I not only finished a zero draft of The Foreigner–cause I can’t rightly call those 50,000 words a first draft–I fixed my toilet!