My grandmother always said that: "Patience is a virtue. Catch it if you can."
The plumbing job didn't turn out very well, but it was my brain that was at fault, not the plumber's. I knew what I wanted, but I apparently didn't know how to describe it. It reminded me very much of my trips to the hair salon. As happened with so many hair stylists, the plumber's vision of what I wanted didn't turn out to be mine.
We were supposed to reroute pipes to make it possible for a new floor to be put in so that we could have the new dryer delivered and installed. The pipes got rerouted all right, but in such a way that it's no longer possible for the dryer to fit in that space. It looks like I won't be saying goodbye to the laundromat any time soon.
Hey, the laundromat isn't so bad. It seemed like such a nuisance at first, carting all those wet clothes in and out of the car, slipping around on the ice between the house and the garage and between the car and the side door of the laundromat, finding the change machine broken, trying to read while tuning out the true crime dramatizations always playing on the TV... you know, all that stuff. But now I'm used to it.
I'm writing this in a part of the house that used to be the kitchen. "Kitchen" is a bit of a stretch. It was a dark corner that housed a stove, a sink, and a board between them for the counter. When we first saw the house I took one look at the kitchen area and said, "I can't cook a meal there." Well, I ended up cooking three meals a day there for several years. It's amazing what you can get used to.
I wonder how long I'll be visiting the laundromat? Patience, patience...