The Monkey Wrench and its usefulness.

Current mood: determined
Category: Life
I got my power back on yesterday afternoon! I also have decided that I should not own a home. It seemed like a good idea at the time, investment, retirement, future, blah blah blah. It's the classic Pope quote: "A little knowledge is a dangerous thing." The key being "a little." I know just enough to be dangerous to myself and my home.

My Friend-with-a-Smart-Car drove me by the house to check on it (my car has been stuck on ice for the past few days), and I noticed the next-door-neighbor had power. I also noticed my porch light was not on. I was in a sour mood anyway, so I trudged inside and flipped a bunch of switches, none of which worked. Then, Friend-with-a-Smart-Car, went inside, determined that the main switch was off, and restored my power. I would never had thought to check for that. (Again, I should not own a home.)

After turning the water back on, he then discovered some of my pipes had frozen. This angered me because I'd shut off the water supply AND had drained the pipes. (Thinking I was doing the responsible homeowner thing.) How annoying.

Anyway, condensed version: he thawed the pipes and got things working again, but the sink was clogged somehow. I own an auger, but that didn't do the trick. And alas, I do NOT own a monkey wrench.

The Monkey Wrench is my favorite hangout in Louisville, and I knew there had, at one time in history, there had been a tool and/or a quilt of the same name. But when I think Monkey Wrench, I think Fried Green Tomato Veggie Burgers or Bluegrass Brunch or Brigid-You've-Got-a-Drink-in-the-Well.

So later that night, when Friend-with-a-Truck picked me up, and I told him about my need for a Monkey Wrench, he completely blew my mind. We were stopped at a stoplight on Bardstown Road, and I was complaining about how I'd spent my youth reading Shakespeare and practicing the piano, when I should have been learning about plumbing. He then reached his left hand behind him and somehow managed to pull a Monkey Wrench out of his truck without missing a beat. He also said something about plumbing manuals being written in iambic pentameter. Friend-with-a-truck-AND-a-poet!

I wonder if he has dental.

Anyway, I now have in my possession a red monkey wrench. And I'm going to go home shortly and rip that sink apart.

Plumbers: stand-by.

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