My go to place
The water filter beep had been going off for ages, due to the menacing nature of the replacement filters sitting on the dining room table. I wasn't going to be bullied. Finally, last Friday I emptied underneath the sink, an absurd amount of cleaning products and spray bottles of unidentified liquids, a 12-pack of sponges, 8 bottles of Mrs. Meyers geranium scented dishwashing soap that had won me free shipping, a Costco sized bag of baking soda that didn't keep my tennis clothes as white as advertised, and too many rolls of compostable garbage bags.
Only way to do this is lie on my back with head inside the cabinet, reaching in to unscrew each filter holder from the base. Ow. Get up, get the yoga mat, go back down. Need a flashlight, get up, OK, good, first one off. What the??? Forgot to turn off the water supply, water everywhere. Deep breath, get up, find a beach towel, clean it up, walk away. Which valve is cold and which hot? Nope, that was hot. OK, turn hot back on, turn the other one off, yup, that's the right one.
Admittedly, not the most visually compelling of my blog posts, here are the bloody water filter holders.
Back underneath, unscrew the second filter holder, get up, remove the filters from the holders, dump the water into the sink, put in the new filters, throw the old ones away. Back to plumbing position, try to line up two bumps half the size of a dime and then twist counter clockwise. Try, miss, try, miss, miss, miss, miss. Take a breath, try again, miss, Get up, walk away. Return, do it, yes, done. Second one is easier, I've got this down. Battery, where did I put that battery? Where does it go? Somewhere unseeable, only my left hand to feel around, yes, here it is, got it. Push it in, five beeps, phew, next, flush for 10 minutes. No water coming out.
Walk away, play some tennis.
Start over. Won't forget to turn the cold water off this time, but aaggh, there's water coming out of the hot water valve, gushing everywhere. Another beach towel. Biggest Le Creuset underneath, alternate bowl at the ready. Text Jorge Plumber, as he is named in my phone
Cold in front, hot in back. I'll have this to refer to next time
Remove and re-attach filter holders, success. Flush water for 10 minutes. Done, but the gushing from the hot valve continues, not at all good. I knew those replacement filters were trouble.
Fiddle with valve, open it up all the way, decrease water crisis to a drip every second or so. Wait an hour to see how much is accumulating, do some math, yes I can go to paddle opening night but can't stay long.
Do some online research to see if there's a way I can at least temporarily stop the drip should Jorge Plumber not be able to come. Not looking good as all solutions require dry pipes. Go to Cleveland Circle Hardware, ask for help, walk out with silicone tape and an iffy prospect.
Text Jorge Plumber again.
He replies! Jorge (pronounced George as is custom in Portugal) works on big buildings during the week and usually commits his Saturdays a few weeks in advance, but bless him, he's coming. Midday Saturday, there he is with his big smile, long shorts, workboots and Home Depot orange pail that holds his equipment, and a fist bump, always. Walks over, looks at the situation, takes out a wrench, opens the valve up a tiny bit more, done. Another smile, an explanation, a wink and another fist bump.
How much do I owe you, Jorge? Ah, nothing.
Do you have an overwhelming feeling of gratitude every time your plumber comes? 617-460-6199, tell him Anna sent you.
Jorge's avatar and sign out on texts
Back to the hardware store to return the tape. The tall guy with the dyed black hair, pale and emotionless countenance who is usually behind the register was instead standing at the entrance, conferring with an older woman wearing starched harem pants the color of hospital scrubs, new black orthopedic shoes, a long shiny black down jacket with her hood up and a mask. Next to her was a dolly toting a full, black garbage bag. Shop man was doing something for her that required close concentration and precision. While I waited, she asked me if my sneakers were comfortable and what brand they were, bending down to read Vibram on the toe. Hmm, she said, I need to look them up on the internet. She turned around to open her garbage bag and all I could see inside was lots of white paper. She took out a small bundle, a bit bigger than her hand, and unfurled a carefully wrapped package to bring out a #2 pencil. She then took out a small, crisp piece of paper that had a word search on one side, and asked me to write down the brand of my sneakers, which I did, handing the paper and pencil back.She thanked me very much and told me I had a nice complexion.
Shop man had disappeared, then came back, looking shyly victorious when he handed the woman back a tiny pair of nail scissors that were no longer missing the piece adjoining the two blades. With unbridled joy, she looked this unassuming man in the eye and thanked him, telling him he was a gentleman. He gave the slightest smile, blushed and nodded his head. On her way out the door, she turned to announce to the store that she liked the service at that hardware store. Holding the door with one hand and pulling her dolly through, she had another thought and turned again to say pensively "It's the little things, really, isn't it? Not the big things".
And off she went.
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