Going solo at closing time

For thirty years I'd had a succession of handymen winterize the water system, but with Ray retiring it was time for me to step up and do it myself. I felt more than ready, I was eager, confident. Last spring I’d followed Ray Harvey around like a puppy dog taking careful notes on all the little secrets of my hose and clamp system, like that low place half way under the cabin that has to be pulled apart each Fall and reattached each Spring. I reasoned that if I knew how to put the water in this Spring I’d know how to pull it out come Fall. Just do everything in reverse. So why this photo of Mark Jones laughing?

You have to understand that plumbing and I are mortal enemies. Anything involving pipes and water, and all the expensive tools required, drains the part of my brain that can usually reason its way through mechanical problems. Give me a leaking valve and I will turn it into a spray; give me a copper fitting to solder and I will set fire to the floor joists, burn myself, and wind up yelping for a plumber. Yes, I have had small successes - installed a new water tank that one time - but I know these things are best left to people with training and proper tools. Despite all that here I am about to take out the water. I am brimming, no, overflowing with confidence. This will be easy, not necessarily fun, but really just a series of simple procedures that drain all the water so nothing will freeze and break. Fast forward to next spring. Mark Jones has made a neat pile of the burst pipes and ruined valves in the pine duff next to the pump. He is looking at me the same way the cop who just pulled you over looks at you. He says nothing for awhile, the pile says it all.

It seems that I had done an expert job of unscrewing the foot valve and placing it on the kitchen counter. And the pump was separated from its power source and drained of water, likewise the water tank. And the pressure tank was removed and set aside. I had belly crawled, propane torch in hand and nut wrench in my teeth, to the long pipe that had to be pulled apart. But, as Mark explained, “If you leave the taps turned off the system won’t drain fully.” The warmth of enlightenment spreads through my being “...and water will remain in various places and freeze?” Mark’s gaze travels to the pile of burst copper pipe, links of hose split here and there, and the now useless valves that had accumulated. It was a big pile. You see, Mark had volunteered to put in the water. I’d been laid up following some ankle surgery and couldn’t get up there, so I accepted Marks kind offer to do it for me. It was July and all the boats were in and he could spare the half hour it should take for my simple system. I am now imagining Mark noting with approval how the pump and tank had been done properly. The intake hose was drained and coiled onshore and he would have made a mental note to explain that an uncovered hose end tends to become burrow and nest for small creatures, but overall he’d smile upon my good work and set about laying the hose, priming the pump, and hitting the switch. Only then would he have realized from the sounds coming from under the cabin that something was wrong. The spray, he said, was magnificent, epic. Where the shower pipes had burst there were long thin slits and billows of spray were soaking the entire room. Beneath the cabin was a water park; a car wash. A lesser man would have shut it off and left. Not Mark. And his bill for nine hours work plus parts was more than reasonable. On the day when I had to face all this he patiently explained the minor little omissions that led to me destroying my entire cottage water system. I felt a small flush of annoyance. Nobody told me to leave the taps open. On the other hand I must admit it’s a pretty obvious thing to do. Closing time is a busy time and we’re usually playing beat the clock. There’s usually some sort of weather closing in and the chores are many. Even with spreading the load over two weekends the last things you do - like pulling the water - tend to be done in haste. Okay that’s lame. I have no case for myself. Once again the plumbing goddess has brought me low. I admit I was secretly glad it was Mark and not me. Had it been me I would have faced a nightmare of uncertainty. What new parts to buy; any special tools? I’d have absorbed Annie’s scorn like a cheap sponge. Worse, I would have tried to restore the system to its previous state. Yes, I would have attempted my own repairs. You see I hate facing these things. Humiliation penetrates to the bones and I must redeem myself at all costs. Try to imagine the carnage. I’ve had some fun yakking on about the vagaries of cottage country labour, the baffling band-aid solutions to various mechanical problems. I’ve concluded overall that the main virtue they all share is that they’re here. They mostly get the job done and who says I could do it any better? I haven’t changed my mind about that, Mark is just the exception that proves the rule. The future of me as handyman is uncertain. Spring will come and it will be the first recharge of the new system Mark installed last year. Give you one guess who’s going to do it!