Monthly Archives: February 2018

Clogged Toilets and Other Domestic Disasters

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February 18, 2018

Yesterday the toilet in my principal bathroom got clogged, and there was no one to blame but me. And there was no one to fix it but me. When Bill was alive, I would find him and deliver the dreaded news—“the toilet is clogged!”—and he would fetch the red rubber plunger from the tool room and go to work. And eventfully he would have the problem solved. Like removing dead mice from snap traps, clogged toilets were on the list of Bill’s household duties.

In the seven years since Bill’s death, there have been perhaps a dozen times that the toilet has clogged. Early on I went out and bought a bell plunger for the toilet, having read that the our old plunger was for sinks and tubs, and in fact I bought a short-handled plunger for sinks. It took a little muscle power with the plunger, but I normally could fix the problem.

Yesterday, however, plunging did not help. And flushing the toilet brought the water level dangerously high. I shut the lid and let the water seep down the trap, while I consulted YouTube. If you have not turned to YouTube to find instructions, you are not living in the 21st century. You can find help for anything on YouTube. I have used it to learn how to remove lightbulbs that have broken off at the base (needle-nosed pliers or a raw potato) or how to snake out a sink pipe in the wall (a good quality auger and patience) or how to replace a pull-out kitchen faucet. A woman friend used YouTube to learn how to replace a garbage disposal.

So yesterday I watched a number of YouTube videos, some by professional plumbers, some by amateurs. There were directions for using liquid soap and hot water, for plungers, for toilet augers—and I feared that a toilet auger would be my next Amazon purchase. But one YouTube video by a professional plumber gave me hope; he explained the need to let the bell plunger slowly fill with water before beginning to plunge—and he had the toilet in the video cleared in 11 seconds. And with that guidance, I did the same.

I don’t need my Superwoman cape, just access to the Internet and YouTube.

Praise Be for Small Things

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February 2, 2018

Bill and I put our bird-feeders at the back of the house, outside the kitchen door. There Bill mounted the large pole feeder for the sunflower seeds and hung the tube feeder for the thistle, and I hung the bluebird feeder which Bill at first laughed at, and then conceded that yes, it did attract bluebirds. We also suspended a large suet feeder from a branch; it has a long wooden tail and even the pileated woodpecker is attracted to it. Two years ago my cousin Carla gave me for Christmas two wire spheres to hold suet pellets, and I hung one outside the kitchen window.

In January I hung the extra wire sphere filled with suet pellets outside the living room picture window, from the hook where in the rest of the year a hummingbird feeder hangs. And now this late afternoon, with the sun light slanting low through the willow oak, the small birds are busy, clinging one at a time to the sphere, or scrambling on the ground in the flower bed searching for suet bits — Carolina wrens, tufted titmice, hairy and downy woodpeckers. The cats are mesmerized and so I am.

Praise be for small things.

“Single Girl Oh Single Girl*”

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January 31, 2018

“So, how do you like life as a single?” Sue my water aerobics instructor cheerfully asked me, as I sat in the hot tub, my arthritic left knee bent to receive the warm jets. She was standing above me, ready to take the next class, my 8:00 am class having finished.

I was so gobsmacked by the question that I do not know what I answered. I babbled some reply, and Sue went back to the pool to teach her class. She had commented to me once or twice that I seemed strong and independent. Perhaps she admired that. She is ten years younger than I, and married.

Bill died over seven years ago, and I never have thought of myself as single. I am a widow. I am on my own, but I did not choose to be this way. Maybe those who are single do not choose to be so, either, but I think they have more say in their situation. Bill and I were married for 45 years, and his death from cancer ripped the fabric of our married life in two.

On most forms that ask for marital status there is a box for widowed. Except on the income tax returns; there I have to check off Single, and I resent that.

So how do I like life as a single? I get to do what I want, when I want, without consulting my husband. I get to hold a holiday open house by myself, without consulting the resident introvert.  I get to stay up late and watch a movie, without Bill saying, “Are you still up?” I get to plan overseas travel to suit myself. And I get to worry about the woodpeckers drilling holes in the siding alone, and worry about my upcoming surgery alone. I get to pay all the bills, and worry if there will be enough money. I get to celebrate my birthday alone.

And I miss Bill every day.

*Title of American Folk Song