Jul 13, 2015 3 min read

For the first time in our 15-year relationship, my husband and I are child-free. Our girls left Sunday morning for a church mission trip, and our son left Sunday afternoon for summer camp, so we have six days to spend solely in one another’s company. Yay us!

When discussing this unprecedented situation with friends, the joke has been that by week’s end, we will be expecting a new baby (Nay us!); however, our “vacation” has not begun on such romantic terms.

After dropping the last child off, we arrived back home ready to lounge on the couch and maybe enjoy a relaxed dinner together. But instead, we immediately discovered neither of us had remembered our house key. It’s not unheard of that we have to find creative ways to enter our home, but in the past we have had small bodies to lift through open windows. And while some part of me envisioned my husband carrying me across the threshold, him shoving me through a window didn’t have quite the same effect.

After I let him in the house, we remembered our other issue. The drain under the bathroom sink had decided to disintegrate. I swear sometimes all you have to do is look cross-eyed at plumbing in this house to have a serious problem on your hands. Avid column readers may recall that my husband detests plumbing. Detests it. It is more than challenging. I think he would rather lift me daily through a window than ever be required to plumb anything. (Read: He advised me from the couch while I attempted the drain repair.)

First I tore the old drains out, paying close attention to which pieces went where. Next I applied plumber’s putty in all the places the instructions called for it. Following the diagram on the back of my package, I reassembled the drain, piping all of the joints, as tightly as possible. When it was completely reassembled, I held my breath and turned the water on.

The leak was worse than before.

Grudgingly, I traipsed to the living room to ask my husband for advice. He informed me that I was having his “typical plumbing experience,” and his only advice was to try again. After the third attempt still produced a leak, I began to question my plumbing ability. I wondered if paying a plumber would be more cost-efficient when compared to my dwindling sanity.

I decided to give it one more shot, and if I couldn’t fix it, I would just burn the bathroom down. Fortunately, a 911 call was not required; the final attempt was successful.

After all was said and done, I am proud to say there is no longer a leak under my bathroom sink. My work is not perfect, however, because the right basin plug won’t hold water. But that is a problem for another day (and a licensed plumber). Maybe the rest of our child-free week will go a little smoother, although my plans are to paint the foyer, and I’m not a much better painter than plumber.

Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.