True Confessions

I could never be a plumber.

We live in an 85 year old bungalow. I love our home. It's charming with it's hardwood floors, crown molding, built in bookcases, open floor plan. It reminds me of a hobbit hole; the living room, dining room and kitchen are set in a straight line from the front door, the bedrooms open to the right (no hallways) and the best room is on the left hand side, a beautiful sunroom with thirteen windows adorned with window boxes filled with impatiens in the summer.


So by now you're wondering, what does this have to do with plumbing? Those of you who have ever lived in an old house have already figured that out.

With the charm of an older home comes the quirks of an older home, usually in the form of plumbing problems, electrical idiosycracies, water in the basement, or birds in the attic. In this house we've had all the above, except the birds, along with a few other interesting "character traits" and challenges that make up the personality of this old house.

This morning the challenge was the bathtub. It wouldn't drain. So I went down to the basement and brought up the plumber's snake (everyone who has an old house has a plumber's snake) and cleaned it out. Yuck.

I could never be a plumber.