Measure twice, panic once.

Apr 04, 2017 22:31

So my darling Dian made an odd request of me this week. She purchased a rather large antique mirror, complete with wooden frame, and wanted me to install it in our hallway.

I pointed out that the shape of said mirror frame indicated that it belonged on a dresser. She reposed that we didn't have a dresser (she prefers Ikea stacked storage boxes) and showed me exactly where she wanted it mounted.

I pointed out that our lovely 100 year old house predated modern building codes ... heck, the folks who built the old girl didn't seem to believe in any building codes a'tall ... and that studs to support the mirror's sixty odd pounds were few and far between. Moreover, the bathroom (and, more importantly, the shower) was right on the other side of the lathe and plaster wall she wanted the mirror attached to, and the combination would make it a tricky installation indeed ... perhaps the other side of the hallway?

Nope.

So, yesterday, after several hours of peering into the access hatch for the bathtub's plumbing, I mounted an attractive one by two the entire length of the wall, driving drywall screws every six inches, but giving wide berth to where I figured the shower pipe would be. Then I gave Dian the option of having the mirror hung anywhere along the one by two. Instead of having me drive a hook to hang the mirror, however, she requested that I drive screws into the one by two through the wooden frame.

I shrugged and did so. She produced a couple of decorative screw caps to cover the heads and mission accomplished.

I was rewarded for my cleverness and manly carpentry attachment solution appropriately (I'll leave the obvious pun for the more giggly readers to supply for themselves) and hopped into the shower afterwards. I turned on the water, took down the hand held shower head (best to aim it away whilst the temperature finds a balance) and pulled the little knob that diverted the flow from the bathtub spout ...

And barely a trickle escaped the shower head!

OH CRAP!!

I shut the water off, leapt out of the shower, and grabbed my cordless drill. Dian, hearing my less-than-manly shriek of panic, came running from the bedroom to find me nakedly removing the access hatch and checking for water gushing into the basement. There was none, but the water had only been on for a scant few seconds ... it might have absorbed right into the plaster!

I told her what had happened and what it obviously meant while I frantically pulled screws, adding that it must have been one or more of the screws that I drove through the frame that nailed the pipe. Then I heard her walk into the bathroom and turn on the shower.

I ran in to tell her to stop and skidded to a halt, seeing the full flow from the shower.

She reminded me that the shower head had a wee little knob on it that regulated flow, one that occasionally was accidentally shut off when one hung the head back on its holder.

She's had two showers since then and she still giggles throughout.
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