I Called The Plumber

"It's flooding in the basement, I called a plumber."

"Why did you call a plumber? I don't need one."

Down he spirals into the basement. I hear the many dings and pings of different size tools, hitting against metal. Sadly, my husband is busy at work. I slowly open the door, gingerly peeking around the corner to take another unwilling look. Now, instead of seeing the one initial leak, water is spewing from two opposite pipes! Closing the door, I creep quietly away.

After a spew of explicit curse words coming from below, I wait patiently as to what I feel is the appropriate amount of time. Then like a ballet dancer on tip-toes, I sneak toward the basement door. Holding my breath, I brave one more look. My husband is now wading through a pool of water, a look of indignation upon his face.

Silently, I close the door. I walk calmly to my phone and hit the redial button for the plumber, who should have already been here. My mind has gone into an animated state of eerie calm control. A glutton for punishment, I take a walk one more time toward the menacing basement door, reluctantly sticking my head through the crack of the door. My husband is now wading through water up to his waist, his arms held high, protecting his eyes from the dancing sprays of water coming from every corner.

The funny thing is, I don't believe the scene before me, even phases me.

In my soothing, mechanical voice, I call to him, " Honey, come on up and let the plumber do his work."

"I don't need a plumber," he snaps, while spitting water from his mouth.

"Fine." I close the door.

'DING' -- The beautiful sound of the doorbell snaps me out of my hypnotic trance. I run to the front door, a bit too eagerly, I swing it open. For a second, I could swear I see a white halo of light enveloping the plumber's silhouette.

Returning to reality, I smile, "I'm glad you're here, he's down in the basement."

The plumber strides to that ominous basement door, innocently opening it wide. I couldn't help but smirk a bit, as the plumber's eyes grow wide. Pipes at all angles and of all sizes were now joining the fountains of water in their tribal dance. The man in the basement is swimming through the water, trying to catch the tools that got away.

Keeping my distance at the top of the stairs, I call to him, "The plumber's here."

He replies, "I don't need a plumber, but since you're already here you might as well come on down and have a look. I might need a little help."

"Riii ... Right" the plumber replies, shaking his head, while sending me an Oh Man, what in the world am I getting myself into, sideways glance.

Tossing my husband a towel, I say in my sweetest voice, "No need to thank me!" And as if a baby were soundly sleeping, I softly close the basement door.