I hate being a know-it-all, but I do occasionally like to pass on valuable information and / or advice as a kind of helpful service to other people who may face similar challenges. Like the time not long ago when I was telling you how to replace a smoke alarm thing with a ceiling fire alarm. OK, I’ll admit this resulted in a disaster that may or may not have resulted in electrocution and subsequent blackout to the entire house for a surprisingly long period of time. Avoid anything with wires. Especially the kind with electricity in them.
But today I want to ask you a question. Do you have a trickling dresser? (Not everyone?) If you do, and you probably do, you are in the right place.
We have three large white bowls in the house (not all in the same room) and the one in the tiny bathroom gurgled and twirled and drove us crazy until she either hired an average plumber at an hourly rate higher than that of a top criminal lawyer , or persuade your significant other to fix it. I finally decided (with the “encouragement” of the bra) for the third option: DIY.
Now DIY can mean either “Do It Yourself” or “Dumb Idea You Moron” but the fourth option was to smash it into pieces with a big hammer so the other day I found myself at the local hardware store buying something This is called a “Compete toilet tank repair kit.” So far, so good.
Step One: Use a razor, pliers, acetylene torch, and 24-inch crowbar to open the molded plastic wrapper from the repair kit. Elapsed time: 45 minutes.
Step 2: remove the toilet tank lid and look inside. Rinse. Observation events occur in the tank. Scratching head questioningly.
Three: crawl onto sore knees and loosen the plastic nut at the bottom of the tank. Watch the water flow to the bottom.
Fourth, close the main water valve on the bottom at the other end of the silver hose. Clean up the flood. Time: 22 minutes.
Fifth, read the instructions. Drain the water from the tank, then remove several tall pieces of plastic from the tank. Crawl around a wet floor in a small room and put your feet in the open shower door to remove two long rusty screws from the bottom of the tank. Time: 38 minutes.
Six: try to get up. If successful, apply ointment to sore knees. Fourteen minutes.
Seven: Lift the heavy tank off the bowl. Place horizontally on the sink. Grunt and swear with breath. Clean up the flood. More or less follow the directions and replace some tall plastic bits. Wrest the heavy, clumsy tank back into position. Kneel down (eight minutes) and hit the floor. Screw the tank tight, connect different hoses. Wipe the sweat off your forehead and try to stand up. Reach for acetaminophen. Time: 2.5 hours.
Eight: Put the last large plastic pipe in the tank. Attempt to attach. Note that it doesn’t fit. To repeat. Note that it fits even less than before. To repeat. Note that water leaks from the tank to the bottom. Resist smashing the toilet into tiny pieces with a large hammer.
Nine: clearing up the flood. Limp all … the … way … down to the dungeon office. Open the YouTube toilet channel. Confirm that it is indeed the completely wrong toilet repair kit.
Ten: Turn off the bathroom light and close the door with scattered tools, wet towels, piles of plastic utensils, and a dead toilet. Get an adult drink. Turn on the TV. Resist the screaming.
Next week: part two.
Harley Hay is a Red Deer writer and filmmaker. Send him a column idea at [email protected].
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