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Pied Piper

It's been 3 years since we moved in. It's about the time when all that was once new isn't quite so new anymore. Things start to break down – the door could use with a new coat of paint and some parts of our couch look a tad worn from the occasional washing.
Faith and I just spent the last few minutes feet deep in 1-inch water. Ok, I know it isn't knee-high or anything, but having the pipe under the kitchen sink burst wasn't part of this evening's programme. And me, living like I was still in college, have only my trusty swiss army knife as my toolbox. It's the huge all-in-one swisstool, not the pocket-sized ones. Only problem is I gave it to Jon, who's leaving for the States on Wednesday.
So I'm off tomorrow to buy a real toolbox. And I'm going to get the pipes fixed. Oh, and the leaky shower too. This comes amidst a ton of work and favours for friends, but we can't live with the water mains turned off. There's something oddly testosteroney about getting a toolbox and fixing the house up.
I like.

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