Sunday, July 25, 2021

Copulate My Existence

 Warning - Warning - Warning

Obscure variations of existing deathly swear words and phrases used in the following post.  May cause permanent injury to one's brain or drive one to drink if one understands said obscure variations.  Read at your own risk. 
     The Chants' Psychological Damage Department

So. There I was, working on breakfast at the usual Beans' Household Breakfast Time (somewheres around 4AM, that would be 0400 EST or 0000 GMT for you, juvat) and I smelled something not quite right and heard sounds not quite right coming from under the kitchen sink.  

With great loathing, knowing what sort of eldritch and lovecraftian things may exist under kitchen sinks, having experienced exploding oven cleaners (thanks, Mom,) raccoon attacks (thanks, hippy neighbors,) random roach explosions (thanks, crappy roommates,) rotting piles of coffee remains and cigarettes (thanks, in-laws who 'came for two weeks' and never left until the main AC died during a heatwave - real story, really, I did not win in the In-Law lottery) and other wonderful experiences, I, with great dread, opened... the under-sink cabinet doors.

And, to my utter disgust and horror, there, waiting for me, was a fetid swamp of grey water, complete with 'things' floating in it, accompanied by that peculiar smell of 'water trapped in cabinets under kitchen sinks.' (If you've ever had a leak under the kitchen sink, from either said kitchen sink or maybe the hose to the dishwasher or even rainwater intrusion, it is a particular smell, not like 'leak under bathroom sink' smell, that just says 'dangerous swampy fetid sour polluted waters lay ahead.) It's one of those smells that even when it clears up you can still smell it, it won't go away.  Agent Smith would put it as one of the top 10 smells that makes him hate the Matrix.

Like this, but darker, under the sink, in my apartment.
No trees though.
But still, the smell

That smell.


Okay, looking closely, pipes are all connected.  Must be an issue with the seal between the sink and the countertop.

Runs water.

Nope.  Leaking from the pipe.

Okay, time to do some serious work now.

One roll of paper towels later, and mopping the interior of the cabinet with heavy bleach water, I collect my potential tools:  pad for the knees (because I'm old, and fat, and down and hard surface hurts.  Come to think of it, it hurt when I was young, too,) flashlight (one of those that came in a pack of Black & Decker cordless tools.  Really nice in that the light portion tilts and the battery pack is flat so you can set the darned thing and point the light where you need it, hopefully not to be occluded by one's hands or head or both,) and a large bowl to place under the P-trap thingy (for to catch the water leaking, juvat.  OAFS would know, because he was smart and enlisted...)

Turn the water on, hmmm, water everywhere.  Shut off water.  Check lowest twisty pipe clamp thingy. Loose as all heck.  Tighten.  Turn water on, water everywhere, shut off water.  Check next highest twisty pipe clampy thingy.  Loose as all heck.  Tighten.  Get a clue. Check ALL remaining twisty pipe clampy thingies. Yep, all loose as heck.  Tighten all. 

(curse, grumble, curse curse)

Turn the water on, hmmm, water everywhere, still.  SHUT WATER OFF, CURSING LIKE A SAILOR (quietly, under breathe, as loud cursing makes Mrs. Andrew's head hurt.) Shake the whole P-trap thingy and why in the copulation is it so copulating loose?  Why the copulate is it not copulating attached to the copulating bottom of the copulating sink?  What The Copulation?  (all said very noisily in my head, not a sound squeaked out other than random grunts and groans.)

Mrs. Andrew asks from other room what is up and starts giving possible verbal help.  Which, me being urinated and surely, shut her off rather abruptly (but remembering last time when I dropped my male reproductive organs into a meat grinder known as peeved Mrs. Andrew's Ire) but politely telling her I am working on finding out what's wrong.

(curse, grumble, curse curse) 

Look closely at the whole pile of collective garbage.  Ah, a nut at the bottom of the sink (being seen by a nut outside of the cabinet...) Grab the sink nut and give it a twist, it refuses to twist.  Though a large metal washer and a plastic washer thingy and a short section of plastic pipe thingy come loose into my overly large and clumsy mitts.  Dagnabit.  Nut not moving. Try again. Nothing. Time to go to my tool stash...

Go digging into tool bucket and find... the perfect thing.  A large vice-grips.  Open up to maximum, unscrew that bolt thingy on the bottom of the vice-grips (do they call them vice grips because when clamped down totally on a male reproductive organ cluster, all thoughts of vice go away?) until the jaws of the vice grip is as wide as possible.

Grab the dagnabit nut and carefully (so as to not crush nut) unscrew nut.  Ah, got it, along with lots and lots of foul smeg and goop and other things. 

Take nut, metal washer, plastic washer thingy and short section of plastic pipe thingy to the bathroom and wash everything off, getting rid of all the foul smeg and goop and other things, to discover...

THAT THE COPULATING METAL WASHER IS THE TOP/BOTTOM OF THE COPULATING NUT THAT HOLDS THE MOTHER-COPULATING....  Yeah, the metal nut had doth rotted apart and separated into two different pieces.  AND THE COPULATING PLASTIC WASHER THINGY IS DONE BROKEDED IN TWO... (curse, swear, curse curse.)

That nut.  That Copulating nut.
See the top of the nut?
That's what looked like a washer, not part of the nut.
Cheap arsed pot-metal copulating pieces.

Okay.  Realizing that I now live in an apartment that has a maintenance staff, I immediately rush over to my phone and place a call to said maintenance staff, right?  Right? 

Said maintenance staff is about half as intelligent, efficient, and swift as the maintenance staff on base housing, so you all who have experienced base housing know that what I am saying is that relying on the maintenance staff to get this fixed in less than two weeks time is slim to none.  Still waiting for the final repairs on the  (checks list) bathroom wall behind the toilet and the stove hood, which were being 'worked on' since April 2017.  Seriously, my mad mechanics skillz, I don't have them, but I am as far above the lackwits and slackjawed mental and physic idiots, morons and defectives (usually, from my experience, from ingesting too much recreational alcohol or other substances, while working...) (And, no, I do not live in some high-falutin tony chic apartment complex.  I live in an okay, single people and old people and way too many druggies (like crammed 8-10 in an apartment, with nobody on the lease)  type apartment complex.  As long as they stay on their side of the doors, walls, ceiling and floor, along with their noises and stenches, I'm okay with it.  Place is actually quieter than the 'kinda upscale' suburb where from I and Mrs. Andrew left to come here.)

Plus, of course, the danged copulating nut is probably about 4 bucks at (b)Lowes. Of which I will be going to on Friday (7-23-21) (as the story is being narrated, it is 4AMish on Friday, 7-23-21, remember?) and the hardest part (cleaning up the water and finding the issue) was already done, so mental order for two nuts with plastic washer thingies to be picked up during shopping trip.

Said shopping trip occurred.  Simple.  Walk into (b)Lowes and find the appropriate part which match the now dead parts in the ziploc bag I'm carrying.  Everything looks good, well, as far as I can tell because the (b)Lowes part is inside a plastic bag that's thick enough to probably qualify as armor.  

And the lighting at big-box-hardware store is horrid.  Seriously, try looking at objects on the shelves set back under huge amounts palletized stuffs that are blocking the pitiful lighting.  Ah, yeah.  Do you get a sense of foreboding?  Does a bear poop in the woods?



So, on the way back from a fast attack run through the Cable company (because they copulated up my ability to pay on-line, so they get to see my fat ass every month) and (b)Lowes and Walmart and Sams and Publix (where shopping is a pleasure, really!) and get home to get just plastered by a huge rain storm that lasted longer than 2 hours (only a 20% chance of light showers according to the weatherguessers, TOP MEN, TOOOP MEN!!!) and get car unloaded (I puts the groceries into those black and yellow plastic bins because I have a van and it keeps the stuff from rolling around, and I just stack the bins in the van, then next to the door, then inside the apartment and then unload them) and the stuff put away and take a nice warm shower because I got drenched by semi-freezing rain and hail (remember, only 20% chance of light showers.  TOP MEN!!!) and go to re-nut the sink and...

I can fit 5 of these fully loaded in the back of my little van,
not including what I can put on the permanent dog couch
between the rear 'cargo' area, and they stack inside of each other
so I can fit Lurch the wonder-chair in for to carry Mrs. Andrew around.



You may have guessed it.

THE WRONG COPULATING PART!  Right diameter, right thread, not big enough hole for the little plastic pipe thingy.

At which time I... I... verbalized rather forthwithly and loudly and very Anglo-Saxonly and then had to apologize to Mrs. Andrew for the aforementioned verbalizing.

Now, you may think, well, loud Anglo-Saxonly verbalizing, that's not so bad.

One time I did that, after a failed project dealing with Homey Despot 2x4 pressure treated cardboard garbage lumber, I verbalized rather forthwithly, rather loudly and very Anglo-Saxonly so much that a neighbor 2 blocks away called the sheriff to find out why the nice man at XXXX address was murdering his wife.  Which I was not.  Wife was at work.  I was on the back porch smashing the piece of excrement wood thingy that was less stiff than wet pulp wood into shards and throwing said shards as far as possible, which was pretty far, let me tell you (as Mrs. Andrew made me go clean up my mess lest the forest creatures (copulate them all) be impaled or stabbed or inconvenienced by all the pieces of Homey Despot's finest garbage pulp cardboard imitating pulp wood. 

At which time, RAGE takes over and my head hurts and I have problems seeing.  Not seeing clearly, just actually seeing, as the head hurts so bad I can't see.

No.  I don't have a problem with Rage. Not one dang bit.  

Put everything away. Grumbled. Fixed dinner. Simmered.

Not going to store on Saturday - that's homemade pizza day.

Not going on Sunday, that's stay inside day for lots and lots of reasons.

Going on MONDAY.  Taking all parts with me.  Taking a damned head lamp so I can actually see in the murky depths of (b)Lowes.  And will buy 2 sets so as to fix both sides of the double sink and I will make sure by ripping one of the packages open (they get weird if you use a knife in the store, done it before, watched employees get wigged out) to make sure plastic pipe thingy fits correctly. 

Then I will come home.  Fix the copulating demon-spawn sink.  

And await the need to go to the hardware store one or two more times because that's how my life rolls.



  1. I feel your pain! I've had one or two experiences with that exact same nut on my sink. And I find verbalizing one's inner thoughts using the versatility of English language is a good way to keep from totally destroying everything when working on it. And I have been known to throw things into the front yard from time to time. (wife chuckles next to me) Best of luck to you on your under the sink combat mission next Monday!
    - Barry

    1. Thank you for understanding and your support.

      As the kids, or middle-aged people say, it's on like Donkey-Kong between me and the sink. I will be victorious, especially after I use a big spade bit to drill about 10 holes in the kick plate under the cabinet so I can get air under the cabinet and dry out the last of the water and get rid of that smell.

  2. Giving you 7/10 on the Rant Scale since lack of consonant heavy Anglo-Saxon curse words (ya....I blog) otherwise a 9/10. There's something about the properties of the big-box hardware stores like Lowes, Home Depot and here in the Upper Midwest Menards that causes the brain to think dumb upon entering said property, must be a cursed cornerstone or evil incantation during construction mayhaps. Taking in broken parts....muy bueno. Thanks for the chuckle this morning Beans.

    1. Big box stores... I've even tried laying boards on the floor to see the inherent straightness of them, only to discover, much to my shock (not) that the floors aren't level, even, smooth, non-undulating. Grrrrrr...

      I could have written a totally profanity-laced screed, but our noble host, my boss, the supreme Old Air Force Sarge, is too close to actual missile keys...

      Glad to lighten your morning.

  3. Fixing a bad washer? That is generally at least a three trip to the hardware store job. If you can do it in two trips, you are good!

    1. We... shall see. I will have all bad parts laid out in front of me at the store and carefully match up each new part with the old part to check spec. With a pound of ripped-up bags and pieces parts scattered everywhere.

      And I am sure there is at least one more trip to the store, because, as you said, three trip minimum.

      Again, I am not the world's greatest handyman, but I am far above the knuckleheads, losers, spazzes (can we even say that anymore?) and just general dregs of society that my apartment management company seem to hire. So I have great hopes to have this all wrapped up Monday afternoon.

      But then again, I am easily bitterly disappointed by life... It's my German heritage, you know. Grand plans, great action, still lose in the end. That and a strong sense of Schadenfreude. Sigh.

  4. From the heading, I was expecting 'Coito, Ergo Sum'.....

    1. Well, I didn't want to get too high brow. juvat reads this stuff after all. :)

  5. I did this one time many moons ago; only three trips to HD. I figured in the cost of the parts, gas, my time, my agita, the rip-roaring arguments/discussions with my wife (who's never, ever backed down away from a rattlesnake), 4 weeks of physical therapy (I hate working in a small cabinet under the sink) just so's I could walk semi-normally.
    The next time (in a different apartment) I called a plumber - it was cheaper!

    1. Fixed budget. Either I do it, on the way to finish month shopping, or I call in the management team. Who make the Russians who work on their one aircraft carrier seem competent.

      And, bonus, I don't have to hide the personal protection devices, the medications, the piles of gold and silver...

  6. Don't go back with pot metal. I have had those weld themselves together in the sulfurous, red staining water we have down in the Eagle Ford. The first house we bought down here was UNKNOWN years old, and the pipe in the upstairs bathroom wall was so rusty the ring welded to it. The pipe nipple came out in flakes. I sat there staring at that hole in the wall like a proctologist for most of the weekend picking out bits.

    Since then, I have realized that pvc doesn't rust. And I keep handfuls of those couplers and washers on hand because raging in the mom and pop hardware store is a major faux paux. Especially since I didn't attend the Navy A School for Deck Ape Voca-Bu-Lary. And some folks just have a knack for rapping. I don't.

    As far as maintenance staff, if you aren't your own QRF, you are at someone's mercy. And my DNA screams in protest when that happens. I truly don't expect to make it much past the doddering stage. I figure I'll fall off something or pull something over onto myself. It's in the DNA...

    1. PVC. Hmmmm... Was hoping for Brass, but PVC might oughta work, if it has the same thread count and fits the pipes correctly. Thanks for the idea.

      I think I get my voca-bu-lary from my mom's side. Multi-generation Marine Corps on her side (Civ War, Span-Amer War, ending in the inter-war period.) Could explain why I also like the taste of glue-paste. Never tried crayons, though... Hmmm... crayoooonsssss...

  7. You've accurately described the average home plumbing repair at our house.
    The difference being that after 36 years in this house, the box of leftover plumbing parts usually has what I need.
    Some of our undersink drain piping is still the original 1950s metal and some parts of that piping has turned to a sort of fake metal that falls apart at the slightest touch much like a movie fight prop.

    The only good news is that you weren't working on a CHT systerm.
    CHT is the Navy acronym for Collection, Holding, and Transfer piping, tanks, and systems.
    The acronym should be based on Sewage Holding and Internal Transfer, but the Navy didn't chose that one. (I'm borrowing the acronym.)

    I feel your pain, and it's a well documented fact that the occasional use of sailorly language make the job go smoother.

    1. The Big Box of Spare Plumbing Parts was gleefully left at the house when I moved to the apartment because I gleefully anticipated competent maintenance staff.


      Well, I don't have the room for big box of parts, so, well, Big Box Store is just 10 minutes away. But from now on, I will suit up with knife, tape measure, head lamp, my phone fully charged with the magnifying application all ready to use. Maybe actually get the right stuff on the first go. Maybe...

      I don't want to ever deal with black water handling again. At the house, the main sewage line would get clogged up, about every six months, usually right before I had to leave, and flooding the house (well, at least the tubs). After years of hiring plumbers to plumb the line, and then buying a powered snake, finally I called the local utility to check the pipes with their camera thingy. Yep, the problem was on their street connection, seems like it had been broken since the house was built, from what the guy doing the camera thingy said (over 30 years.) So I had, hmmm... 6 months of worry free plumbing before I moved. All that money wasted because the plumbers wouldn't tell me the problem was on the street side, therefore the utility would fix it. See? Copulate my existence...

    2. That's right, you're in an apt that does these things for you! So you're doing this for fun! :-)

    3. Yep. For FUNNNN...

      Next I'll slam my hand in the door a couple times.

  8. I hate plumbing in general, it's always like you described... Good luck!!

    1. The actual pieces-parts plumbing isn't bad. It's dealing with it at the most inconvenient time while dealing with the smell and the funky weird stuff that seems to accumulate in, on and around the various connections that make sticking ones' hands into raw sewage seem safe. Seriously, what is that weird paste stuff that forms? And how, short of fire, do I kill it, along with the smell?

      Thanks for the good luck wishes. I need it.

  9. With others, a less than three trip to the Big Box store for a fix is a miracle, especially with the inability to truly see what part you need without opening the package.

    Plumbing is a trade that I admire beyond all others, not only for its usefulness but some of the situations they must deal with.

    If struggling for acceptable methodologies of cursing, might I suggest Klingon? There are plenty of vocabularies out there, the words are spoken with gusto, and it is viscerally satisfying.

    1. Words have meaning. Anglo-Saxon, German, Italian, Russian are all very powerful languages that carry very powerful words.

      Klingon is just... not strong enough. What do you expect from a made-up race who thinks the best astronomer ever is "Kep-Lah."

      Since a Lent about 4-5 years ago, I have worked hard on alternate meaning curses using plain English (Americanized version.) Thus, "Copulate Me" and "Male born out of wedlock" and "intact female dog of breeding age" have replaced, ahem, some rather popular words.

      I also love using the word "pussy" to call someone weak, as it literally is the shortened version of "pusillanimous" which, of course, means weak, useless, a girly-man, wimp, etc. And has nothing to do with a woman's hoo-hoo.

    2. On the other hand, the expectoration when using Klingon is exceptionally satisfying.

      In my pursuit of Anglo-Saxon, I have yet to come across actual curses. Be assured I will use them when they arise.

  10. Plumbing...

    I can do simple repairs, I tend to NOT get the right parts on the first trip to the store, sometimes not even the second, but I get it done eventually. Sometimes without blood.

    One thing I've noticed over the years is that cats find plumbing repairs fascinating. Go figure...

    1. Yeah, having a cat take my picture, close up, with his/her rear mounted camera, has always been 'fun' while doing laying-on-one's-back work.

      The dog isn't allowed in the kitchen, so he, supposedly, doesn't come in while I am doing laying-on-one's-back work. Supposedly. Would help if I would actually close the baby gate that is blocking the opening to the kitchen area.

      I think that the hardware store checkout counter is an actual working replicator/transporter. You put the correct part down and look away and 'Bzzzzortttt' the correct part is replaced by an incorrect, incomplete, already broken or a combination of all three, part.

      I will high myself to the Bigge Boxxe Storee and have a fun time buying yet another pockeful of $3.00 parts. Still better than waiting on management.

  11. I have never, ever fix anything on a single trip to a big box hardware store.

    You are my blood brother!

    1. People look at the JFK assassination and see conspiracy. Or Area 51.

      The real conspiracy, of course, is why it takes 3 trips. Even for professional plumbers or electricians, it takes 3 trips to the shop or 3 different vehicles before the pieces-parts for a successful completion of a job are all together at the correct time and place in order to actually complete the job.

      That's the conspiracy.

      All JFK did was show that a Carcano is a reasonable woods rifle, good up to 300 yards from a deer stand or hide...

  12. Hey Beans,

    I can so relate, LOL And I am a Aircraft Mechanic and Plumbing sucks. Doing Plumbing is a several time trip and getting my old ass under the sink *ouch*. Although having the ability to cuss in English, German, Russian, Czech, and Spanish does have its advantages because my wife can't understand most of it, LOL

    1. My wife can read my mind, from a distance. Proven fact. I'll be in another room thinking of something and she'll chime up about what I'm thinking about.

      So, well, no languages will save me from the wrath of Mrs. Andrew. Sometimes just saying it in my head gets me in trouble.

  13. I haven’t read any of the other comments… yet.
    Curses upon the big box home improvement stores.
    Real hardware stores, with folks who can really assist us, have all but disappeared, except in towns in places like Wyoming or North Dakota.
    Oh, yeah… and Walmart, too, for the cheap crap they sell.

    I miss real hardware stores.

    1. I miss real hardware stores, too. And competent employees. Alas, things modern and improved just aren't. Sigh.

      And I don't buy nails or anything hardware-ish from Walmart. Their stuff tends to start falling apart as soon as one leaves the store. Plus they get really angry if you open packages to see what's actually inside.

  14. I think you forgot to mention all of the plastic bottles of cleaners, waxes, scrubbers, sponges, oils, soaps trash can liners and dish washer soap pods that are also under the sink. Some you bought, (like I did) to fix, lubricate, clean, grease, line or scrub that special part, object, hinge, pipe or shelf somewhere in the condo. I don't mind getting down on my knees or stomach anymore to fix stuff as long as I have thoroughly planned my recovery phase.
    You lost me when the technical words started coming - thingee , measuring and seeing.
    We were in Gainsville last week for Miss Jeanie's disappearing issues. I wished you'd called me. We had lunch at PF Chang on Archer.

    1. I keep the under-sink area clean of extraneous junk, just because (because of the exploding can of oven cleaner that my mother left under our sink at the house that rusted and exploded.)

      And with wife's issues and my issues, I clean pert near everything with either Dawn or clorox-water.

      Last week was a suckfest here. Wife and I were reacting to all the outdoor mold blooming from the rains. Eh, it happens. But thanks for the offer.

  15. I went through that when pulling a sink. It took a cold chisel, some strange contortions, and a year's supply of the cursing demanded by a ship full of sailors. It reminded me of the time my mother's disposal started leaking, and I offered to perform the "easy" task of installing a new one.

    1. When the GD at the house died, for the third time, I just didn't install another one. Hate garbage disposals.

  16. Lotta truth in your post, there Beans, lotta truth. My first trip to a hardware store was about 60 years ago when I had hair. Papa taught me to buy a few bolts/nut that were one size bigger and smaller than I needed as people would take a handful out, count out what they needed then forget which bin they were in. I've done that ever since.

    Hasn't broken the wrong size curse ever, but it's an interesting twitch I have. And....I've got a lot of excess bolts/nuts to search through before I have to make a trip. Not that any of them fit, mind you.

    1. I gladly left all of the pieces-parts-stuffs at the house when I bailed. Not much need now and what need I have I can buy small amounts and then... throw away what's not needed.

      I do have one of those plastic cases with 'common hardware.' Which I have found I never ever need. So, well, yeah.

      As to open bins at hardware stores, I take either a matching bolt or nut and test everything. Try with the bolt to make sure I've got the right grade. The fellows and fellowettes at Ace Hardware all smile and nod when they see me doing that.

  17. I do, if necessary. Though I’m not sure why everyone is always asking.

  18. MAJOR suckage there, beans! I, too, have faced the Dreaded Undersink Monsters before, but it usually involved replacing the garbage disposal. We were in this house two days, when we noticed that the disposal unit did **nothing** when the switch was flipped. Looked on the "Home Inspection Report" and it was checked off as "Not Tested" WTF?!? All you have to do is flip the switch to "Test" it.

    $350 late at Home Depot (Let's Get This DONE!), and then several hours under the sink. Pulling the old one wasn't bad (BTDT), but the new one SLW insisted on was bigger than the DOA one, so I had to finagle the pipes and stuff around, but with the help of a 2x4 block, and small bottle jack, I was able to get it up in position, and tighten everything down.

    I have a Horror Fright "Mechanics Pad" that I lay on when I do this stuff, and it really helps.

    1. I've got a stack of those hospital pee-pads, the washable kind, from when Mrs. Andrew was on home care due to a doctor-involved infection (long story...) so I use one or two of those. Nice thing is, they're washable.

      Since I don't grease-monkey anymore (the Ram Promaster City van is nigh unto incomprehensible. It's a half hour to unhook the battery and remove it, another 15 minutes or so to replace it and that's the easiest major component one can work on) I don't need anything for outside. If'n I do, cardboard boxes will work.

      And I have learned. If ever I move, I will: Run the heater for 3 days with the windows open to burn out the carp in the A/C system. I will pull out the refrigerator and stove and nuke those areas. I will lightly pound the tiles on the shower enclosure. I will replace any ceiling fans in the place with much larger and better ones (Harbor Breeze 52" ceiling huggers with LED light for $50.00, replaced the one in the bedroom (40") with the 52" and it's a huge difference) and put out bowls of vinegar to vaporize (destroys any smoke or other scents.)

      That is, if the next move isn't a dash-must-move event.

  19. Pro tip. Don't replace one part. Replace it all. Because if it's all made out of that cheap pot metal and one part fails, the rest are not far behind. Replace it ALL with PVC.

    1. The only things metal on the sink are the sink, faucet and the damned nuts that connect the cheap WalMart pvc drain kit. The drainpipes are all in good shape. Just got to replace the two nuts, after defunking the connections.

  20. I own my house, so it's all up to me to do. After spending my early years in construction, most aren't a problem.
    That aside, I've lived in trailer parks & stand-alone trailers but never, NEVER in an apartment. I'd live in a tent before I'd imprison myself with lunatics just the other side of the walls, deck, & overhead. To each his own, but for me, just NO.
    --Tennessee Budd

    1. I live in a single-level apartment building on purpose. Nobody above or below, no stairs to climb. Have had some bad neighbors on either side, but so far no really bad violent neighbors. Those seem to congregate around the nice lady across the parking lot from me.

      Two types of people in the complex: Single or older married people who want to be left alone and young, dumb, substance abusing idiots with or without children.

      Beats living in a van. And it's what I can afford, and Mrs. Andrew can get in and out and the A/C works so all is good.

  21. (Don McCollor)...Ah yes, the sink!...Once upon a time, sink faucet with a bad drip and needing replacement. Half hour upside down under the sink trying to get at the nuts holding the old one in. Plan B. Undo the water and drain connections, unscrew the sink holding clips, and work on the upside down sink on the kitchen floor. Much easier. Put sink with new faucet back in and attach connections. Both water and drain connections leak. Retighten. Leak even worse. Find stray tube of vinyl bathtub caulking and slather on connections before tightening and allow to set before testing. The connections may never come apart again, but by God they didn't leak...

    1. Yep. Demounting the sink is what I tried at the house when the sink stuff went south for the last time. Ended up getting a section of kitchen counter and just plopping that on top of the existing counter to hold me over till I could afford to fix everything.

      I moved instead. Much nicer.


Just be polite... that's all I ask. (For Buck)
Can't be nice, go somewhere else...

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