Not trying to be a tease, just trying to find a way to get through the first hot snap of the year, contractions, little signals that this little girls is getting closer to making her debut and not having running water upstairs.

Sean got the mold out of the bathroom, along with the 200 pound cast iron tub.

The drywall, tiles, lath and plaster are all far, far away after multiple trips to the dump. The girls are at Nana’s and I am ready to head up to bed…so very far away from the only working toilet.

I had a plumber on the phone, he sounded great – intelligent, sympathetic, available and then BZZZ-APPP his cell phone died. He never called back. Several other numbers dead-ended at voice mail recordings or announcements of having been disconnected. Out in the driveway the back of the pick up is chock full of new Kohler this and Kohler that. We have the wood to frame out the space and the time to do it, but we need a plumber.

I am teetering on the edge of sanity. I tried to catch up on work, but the program I need to read the files was wiped off my computer. We rented a movie for distraction and it went from ok to bad (spiders) to horrifying (a dad doing the unthinkable because he thought it was the best thing to do) to un-freaking-accepeptable (dad really should have waited 45 seconds).

Don’t rent The Mist

Tomorrow is Sunday, this means I’ll be sitting on my hands. Or sitting with my hands firmly between my legs, because even though ya’ll had a point about the hospital having great showering facilities, I have seen what plumbers do to floors. The baby’s room is next to the bathroom. I want I need to clean after this guy (or gal) comes through. It feels so unfair to lose this kind of control even as the crisp flapping of the finish line tape tickles at my ear.

Damnit, John the plumber from Saratoga County, call me back and make my year. Say you’ll come and set the pipes tomorrow.