Better Living Through Chemicals

This is a photo of my husband. He is bearing toxic, corrosive liquid that will hopefully save my sanity.

The three-week bathroom remodel was completed a number of days ago; how many, I have lost count because I got tired of staring at the shining chrome, spiffy Corian shower walls, and unscuffed floor. It made me cry.

I am a follower of the belief that when one undertakes a remodel or construction project, things will go wrong. When it involves plumbing, it is almost a given.
Our wonderful contractor finished up the fifth of December, picked up his tools, shop-vac and scraps of wood, and departed for a 10 day trip to Idaho. His parting words were thus "Now the first time someone takes a shower, be sure to station someone downstairs to watch for leaks." This was followed by a positive spin "90% of the time nothing goes wrong, but there is that 10%..."

No need to go any further. A bath for Bear the very next evening led to water dripping in a beautiful cascade of droplets, coupled with a backing up of all upstairs bathrooms when the dishwasher ran. And my in-laws coming on the 19th.

To his credit, Contractor came promptly upon returning to town, made a big hole in the downstairs bathroom, fixed leaks but discovered that the pipe from the kitchen sink was clogged with enough goo to fill a septic tank.

Thus the chemical process by Yukon. So far, so good. The in-laws arrive late tonight. The bathrooms are clean and so far, usable. I have enough wine to sustain me should anything go amiss.