Fixing the toilet
My toilet has been temperamental for a while. It sometimes flushes, sometimes doesn't. The main issue is it can get "stuck" on the flush setting, leaving it cycling through water. Knowing I had the chance to buy a fix-it kit at Home Depot when at my parents house for the weekend, I do and bring it back to their place before heading back home.
"Did you get the wrench for the thing?" asks my father.
"What thing?"
"You know, the thing. The thing!" As if "thing" means anything specific. He runs to the Home Depot bag and brings it to the kitchen table where I'm sitting.
"Oh, the toilet thing. No, I don't have a wrench. I might have one at home."
"No, you don't Here, use this one." He hurries off to his tool box and grabs me one. "You can't unscrew the fittings with your hands. You don't have the strength." He says this last part with a chuckle.
"It shouldn't be too hard to fix," I say and look down at the newspaper in front of me.
"Ahhh, my son. Always thinking he's smarter than his father. You know you have to take the toilet apart. It's not as easy as you think."
"Why do I have to take apart the toilet? All you have to do is unscrew one component and insert the other one." I grab the box and show him the instructions on the side.
"Don't be stupid. You have to..." and he starts on this rant about dismantling the toilet is the only way to remove the rubber stopper and chain on the inside of the tank.
"What's your father saying?" asks my mother, coming up the stairs. "Don't taunt your father. You know how he is."
"I'm not taunting him. I'm showing him that I'm not going to take the toilet apart to fix the thing on the inside."
"Why would he have to take apart the toilet?" asks my mother, directing the question to my father.
"You're both stupid. You don't know what you're talking about." My father is adamant.
My mother picks up the box and sees the instructions on the side. She quickly realizes I'm not taunting my father, but telling the truth.
"Hubby, look at the picture on the side." She pushes the box to his eye level. "Your son is telling the truth."
He takes a quick glance at it and turns around. "Oh, well, do whatever you want to do. It's your toilet."
As much as I love my father, he's not someone who enjoys looking at - or following - instructions. Even if he manages to fix/assemble something, it doesn't mean the process will be easy. Sometimes instructions are there for a reason, not just a suggestion.
"Did you get the wrench for the thing?" asks my father.
"What thing?"
"You know, the thing. The thing!" As if "thing" means anything specific. He runs to the Home Depot bag and brings it to the kitchen table where I'm sitting.
"Oh, the toilet thing. No, I don't have a wrench. I might have one at home."
"No, you don't Here, use this one." He hurries off to his tool box and grabs me one. "You can't unscrew the fittings with your hands. You don't have the strength." He says this last part with a chuckle.
"It shouldn't be too hard to fix," I say and look down at the newspaper in front of me.
"Ahhh, my son. Always thinking he's smarter than his father. You know you have to take the toilet apart. It's not as easy as you think."
"Why do I have to take apart the toilet? All you have to do is unscrew one component and insert the other one." I grab the box and show him the instructions on the side.
"Don't be stupid. You have to..." and he starts on this rant about dismantling the toilet is the only way to remove the rubber stopper and chain on the inside of the tank.
"What's your father saying?" asks my mother, coming up the stairs. "Don't taunt your father. You know how he is."
"I'm not taunting him. I'm showing him that I'm not going to take the toilet apart to fix the thing on the inside."
"Why would he have to take apart the toilet?" asks my mother, directing the question to my father.
"You're both stupid. You don't know what you're talking about." My father is adamant.
My mother picks up the box and sees the instructions on the side. She quickly realizes I'm not taunting my father, but telling the truth.
"Hubby, look at the picture on the side." She pushes the box to his eye level. "Your son is telling the truth."
He takes a quick glance at it and turns around. "Oh, well, do whatever you want to do. It's your toilet."
As much as I love my father, he's not someone who enjoys looking at - or following - instructions. Even if he manages to fix/assemble something, it doesn't mean the process will be easy. Sometimes instructions are there for a reason, not just a suggestion.
Authored by S at 12:00 am
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