I think a little piece of me now lives in the basement next to the water pump. I mean that quite literally. I suspect a piece of what's left of my knuckle is now spending quality time with the hose clamp on the well hose. The damn water filter housing was being a bit more stubborn than usual, and I reefed on it a little harder than usual. 'Twas the perfect storm of force, resulting in me saying "fuck" a lot when I looked down and glimpsed the white of my knuckle bone. Enter teenage son, who helps me put the filter back together so that I can turn the water back on and stand sobbing hysterically over the bathroom sink, fighting nausea as I unsuccessfully try to sluice god-knows-what out of the ragged wound, all the while thinking, "This is utter bullshit. Why the hell wasn't Prince Charming down in the basement fixing the water? And where the hell is that guy anyway?"
Screw fairy tales. Screw hose clamps. Stupid stainless steel bastards. Long live narcotic painkillers.
Share on Facebook
Friday, October 17, 2008
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment