There are many things I can do, and a few of those things I'm very good at. I can garden (you wouldn't be able to tell that from the state of my yard at the moment though). I can cook (not fantastically, but definitely adequately). I can clean (obsessively). I can fix a computer (in my sleep). I can change the oil and spark plugs in my car (though I prefer to pay someone else to do it).
However, I am not particularly good at anything DIY around the house. A friend of mine showed me how to re-wire an electrical socket. I'm ashamed to admit that other than "turn off the power before you start" I remember nothing of what he said. And plumbing completely baffles me!
Since I moved into my house over a year ago the toilet has run constantly. This was something that was noticed during inspections and should have been fixed. Somehow, it was overlooked (in other words I didn't notice it wasn't fixed) and I was stuck with it. I ignored it for a while until it got really loud and I started noticing a difference on my water bill. For some reason, when it affects my bank account, I take action.
One Saturday I decided to do something about it. Everyone I'd spoken to had advised me that this was an easy job. And wasn't I an independent, strong-willed woman who had taken the world by the balls and made it hers? Surely a toilet would not conquer me! So I went to Lowe's and purchased a toilet repair kit.
I followed the directions. I turned off the water and disconnected the hose. I caught the excess water in a bucket. So far so good! I removed the ballcock and tried not to giggle (the guts of a toilet have amusing names... just sayin'). I removed the floater and the overflow tube. I was getting pretty good at this.
Then the directions told me to unscrew the tank. My home was built in 1953, and while some things have been updated and it looks fairly modern, there are some things that have not been. My toilet has probably been in this bathroom for more than thirty years. The bolts that held the tank to the bowl were covered in some sort of strange crust (I'm hoping it was rust). One I removed... with effort. But the other would not move. Not even a tiny bit. After an hour of frustrated attempts I was fighting tears and lamenting the weak upper body strength associated with my gender.
And I called my dad.
What is it about dads that make them know everything? Just the sound of his voice gave me confidence that this was going to be okay. When I explained what it was I was doing he gently told me I didn't need to do all of that. He asked me what I saw and I described the disaster that sat in pieces in front of me. The delicate balance between independent, strong-willed woman and despairing little girl who didn't have a clue what to do with this dirty, watery mess tilted and I nearly lost it. But dads somehow work magic, and mine is particularly good. He spoke the incantation, "How 'bout I come take a look at it."
Verbally I objected. Emotionally I rejoiced. Cognitively I stubbornly wanted to figure it out on my own. Talk about conflicted! But in the end, I agreed, and he was on his way.
In the meantime, I resorted to my good friend Google and searched for answers. In the ensuing ten minutes I discovered that he was indeed right and I was doing too much work. I was nearly finished when he arrived and inspected my work. He simply said, "Yep. Looks good. Make sure everything is good and tight and keep an eye on it over the next couple of weeks to make sure it doesn't leak." Suddenly I felt like a brilliant neurosurgeon who had just performed life-saving brain surgery.
I had done it. The toilet worked, and it didn't make a sound! What's more, I had done it by myself! I was proud and humbled at the same time, and I realized in that moment that without his affirmation I would have gone back and forth on the matter for some time and may never have come to the conclusion that I was indeed doing things right. I needed the help, as much as I didn't want to admit it to myself. Getting up close and personal with a toilet forced me to realize that asking for help isn't weakness. Asking for help is a kind of strength in and of itself. Life isn't about knowing everything, it's about knowing who to ask when we aren't sure and being willing to change what we're doing to follow wiser directions.
Yep. A toilet taught me that.
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