Pay Attention
By Jim Turner
It should have been a very simple fix with no surprises, at least none that would
cause me to use bad words. I have done this kind of repair before on other tanks
and sinks, and I expected to be finished with two upstairs toilet tanks in a half hour
or so. I strode through the automatic doors at Lowes Home Improvement, nodded
hello to the greeter and marched with authority down the first aisle till I saw the
sign for plumbing. I didn’t need help. I knew where I was going. I hooked a right
at the last row and stopped about midway down. There, hanging in a neat row,
was the selection of flexible water lines, displayed in ascending order according to
length. They were attractive little dudes sheathed in stainless steel mesh and built
for durability.
The thing is, I am zealously working to shed my image as a hapless and feckless
homeowner by methodically catching up on some long overdue repairs to our
house. Construction of our home was completed in early 2002, so some of the
original equipment is beginning to notify me of its pending demise. Besides the
mere age of the building, I have heard several disturbing stories recently about
islanders who have returned after a lengthy absence to discover their houses have
been flooded. One of the suggestions to avoid this tragedy is to systematically
switch out all the old water feed lines on toilet tanks and sinks and dishwashers and
moonshine equipment. Throw away PVC and copper feeds and replace them with
the new and improved flexible ones. It should be a piece of cake, right? You only
need a small adjustable wrench and some flexible knees.
I did not bother to measure the distance on my existing fixtures from the
tank bottoms to the water inlets protruding from the floor. Exhibiting the same
confidence I had shown when walking directly to the water lines in Lowe’s, I
assumed that I could eyeball the little devils and pick the right one for my project.
To be safe, though, I picked two 16-inch lengths. Better to be too long than too
short, I reasoned, and I made my way to the checkout lanes.
While standing patiently with nothing better to do, I began reading the label
attached to the replacement part. Right there on the bright red and white tag with
the 45-digit UPC code was the word “faucet.” Oops. Man, I’m glad I saw that before
I got home.
Finally I returned home with the proper tags clearly indicating they were for
toilets. Then, using my flexible knees and medium adjustable wrench, I began to
remove the old line. I was really clever, almost professional. I shut off the intake
valve, flushed the toilet, removed the excess water and took off the old line. Damn
that was easy. Then I began to attach the new line and recognized pretty quickly
that it might be just a tad too long. The old line measured 12 inches, and the excess
length of the 16-inch line refused to be flexible enough to connect at both ends. I
guess I should have used a measuring tape to start with.
The next day I moved through the automatic doors with a little less authority,
nodded to the greeter and walked the short distance to the returns desk. “I need
to exchange these for two shorter lines,” I said. Then, back in front of the display, I
took two 12-inch lines from the toilet section. So back at the exchange desk I traded
the two 16-inch tubes for two 12-inch tubes, and the clerk said I owed 96 cents
more. That seemed weird and I commented about how shorter was more valuable. I
didn’t even get a smile.
Forty-five minutes later, my flexible knees and adjustable wrench had attached
the line on toilet #1, turned on the water and checked for leaks. Take that, plumbing
service. This is where I need to tell you that my wonderful wife of 52 years often
says to me, “You don’t pay attention.” When one of us notices blood dripping
from one of my body parts and I don’t know how the mishap happened, she says,
“You don’t pay attention.” If my driving maneuvers incite road rage from another
motorist, she says, “You don’t pay attention.” So I really dreaded letting her know
I needed to go back to Lowes—again. But this was not my fault. Both of the most
recently exchanged lines were designed for toilets and each was 12 inches in length.
The difference was in the diameter of one of the connections.
My loving and understanding wife rolled her eyes and began to say, “You just
don’t...,” but I was already out the door. The returns clerk gave me an odd look as
I explained that the toilet tank water leads, 12-inch lengths, were mixed up on the
display rack and the 1/2-inch fittings were intermingled with the 3/8-inch fittings.
The greeter raised one eyebrow as I passed him. I ducked my head and moved
off toward the plumbing section. Soon I returned to the exchange clerk with the
correct part, the perfect size, indestructible flexible water feed braided in stainless
steel. This was the Superman of all water lines. She made the exchange, and after
some pitiful begging on my part, she wrote a note for me; “Dear Mrs. Turner, I want
to assure you that your husband was not at fault when he made his last purchase
of the flexible, stainless covered, non-destructible toilet water lines. This was all
Lowe’s’ fault and we take full responsibility. We hung the items with the diameter
sizes all mixed together, which caused him to select the wrong line for his needs.
I do, however, have one little request for your future plumbing projects. Either
accompany your husband and help with the replacement part selection or call
Island Plumbing. Thank you for your continued patronage.”
A few days following that not-so-simple-after-all plumbing project, we were
out and about together and I was enjoying one of my favorite pastimes, people
watching. The tourists were still teeming everywhere, filling what should be “locals
only” parking spaces and walking four abreast on sidewalks and streets and grocery
stores and anywhere they pleased. There were all makes and models of folks, some
eating ice cream cones and some not. Many required a second look, especially the
attractive ladies with their dripping Ben and Jerry’s flavors. I guess my rotating
head had finally given me away when my handler caught me looking a bit too long
at a passerby. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m just paying attention,” I said.
Maybe one day I will learn to think before I speak.
ilt& ^a£e
join us for
Third Thursdav forum at four
for an opportunity to hear about
The Real Story on N.C. Real ID
with
Pine Knoll Shores Chief of Police
Ryan Thompson
Thursday, September 13, 4 p.m.
Pine Knoll Shores town hall
Free and Sponsored by the Age-Fnendly Advisory Committee
Next third Thursday forum at four:
October is, 201S
8
The Shoreline I September 2018