Sunday, January 15, 2017

Not. One. Drop.

And that was a bit of a relief I must say.

It's been a while I know,  since I've uttered a peep.   I'd like to say "time constraints" or some such nonsense,  but I have to admit that it has more to do with laziness and figuring that it's not that Earth shattering to warrant a blog post.  You believe that,  right?

I should,  I suppose,  be a little more in touch with what's happening in the "Blogoshere",  but that too falls by the wayside when life starts to crowd out blogging.  Let's not forget laziness.
Then, I would have been more aware of the passing of a blogger I had followed since way back in our Vienna days.
The first shocker was when he came home to find his wife Loyce slumped over in a chair,  where she had passed away possibly a few hours earlier.   That sad day was a few years ago, September of 2013 to be exact.
And since then, he had been getting along,  A little lost,  as he put it, but had still managed to keep up with his blog,    Retired Rod


I just discovered yesterday,  or maybe it was a couple days ago,  that he too has passed away,  and that he had been afflicted with brain cancer and underwent surgery in March of last year.  Whoa!  What?

And you know, at one point when T.C. and I were doing our Christmas cards (yes, we still do that) we came to the realisation that the list wasn't getting smaller as a result of being shunned or snubbed or anything,  but rather,  that some of the recipients were starting to die off.    

Not that that has anything to do with Rod or his wife or anything,  but it's just one of those moments when you stop and think.

Let's just stop right there,  before I get all maudlin.


*****

So.   The dripping?  Or lack thereof?

Well,  I think I left off before Christmas with some drivel about the bathroom Reno?   Probably.
Oh and,  Christmas?

Right.  Merry Christmas.   Happy New Year.



The three wise guys showed up on the sixth of January,  like they do every year.

The tree is already down and out.

Or course there was a moratorium on the Reno over the Christmas time,  which was fine with me,  it's not like I'm in that much of a hurry,  but now I'm back to plugging away.
And I should mention, that I had alluded to a slight "mishap"  when I was whackin' the crap out of that cast iron tub?   See,  the plan was to KEEP the sink,  so we'd not only have use of the Water Closet ("toilet" for the rest of you.)  but be able to brush teeth and wash hands and such.

You know,  just over Christmas.


Um, er, well,  see,  a five pound sledge hammer and a porcelain sink?   They don't get along.
As I was whacking away at the tub,  and it was moving ever so surreptitiously from its original spot,  one slip of the sledge, (say that ten times fast!)  and the likelihood of the sink holding water with those two big pieces missing was slim, to say the least.  Didn't take any pictures.  Sorry.

So the sink has been gone for a time.  In an "emergency"  one can still use the crapper,  but then you need to find another washroom to wash ones front feet.   Not the best arrangement.


Of course,  since I'm an idiot, (see sink 'removal' above)  I realised that,  I should have fit my shower pan in BEFORE putting up the cement board,  but that was easily remedied.  Plus, I'd rather do all the messy business before putting in that rather large and easily scratched shower pan.

The next wee job was to hook up the water supply for the new fixtures.

Always fun.

Not only that but,  due to the somewhat challenging location of where the new lines need to go,  I decided to go with Pex  pipe and fittings.  It was either that,  or rip open even more of the garage ceiling,  which really didn't thrill me.
You still have to join the pex to the existing copper,  so there was still some open flame involved,  which most always results in,  "I can smell something!"   from T.C.

Which is exactly why I tend to do those sorts of activities when she's not home.

And that is also why I waited until this morning to open the valves to the new lines.

Now,  normally,  you let the water run into the pan,  (I guess)  and that's usually after all the walls are up and tiled.  But, I really wanted to make sure that NOTHING was leaking,  so no pan with a convenient drain,  which presented a slight problem.  How to keep the water from blasting out of the open fittings?

As it so happens,  I have a couple old hose bibs kicking around,  and they're the type that screw into a threaded fitting.
Easy peasy.



Well,  the one in the picture above just happened to be soldered onto an existing pipe,  and I forget where exactly I cut that one off,  but all I had to do was solder the female fitting onto the end,  and then connect it to the nipple sticking out of the imaginary wall.   That outlet,  by the way,  is for the hand held shower head.  Just so you know.


And of course,  there's the opening for the "rain shower" up top.



Since I wanted to actually run the water,  I needed a couple buckets.    Doesn't look very elegant,  and I suspect we won't be leaving it that way for the final product.   "There we go Honey,  just hook a hose!  It'll be fine!"

Not.

And well.  Nothing leaks.

I do have those rare moments of clarity.

And,  now I guess I have to get back at it.


Keep those sticks on the ice,   and thanks for stopping by.



4 comments:

  1. We are reaching that age when our friends start to leave us behind. Nothing leaks is a really really good thing.

    ReplyDelete
  2. We are reaching that age when our friends start to leave us behind. Nothing leaks is a really really good thing.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Leaks are bad but then again the older we get, the less we notice them.

    ReplyDelete
  4. It is a slow process but it will get done. We have noticed that as well, that friends and relatives keep dying off. hmm we can't ;one forever now can we?

    ReplyDelete

Well, I've been getting too many spam comments showing up. Just a drag, so we'll go another route and hope that helps. So, we won't be hearing anything more from Mr. Nony Moose.
I guess I'll just have to do without that Gucci purse.