Soon after Jake Mohan and his wife bought a house, something went wrong with the plumbing. And then something went right with the plumbing.
Rick called his friend Tom, a plumber. If I’d thought Rick was eccentric, I hadn’t seen anything yet. Tom was the Kramer to his Seinfeld. Leather-skinned and gray-mustached, Tom swaggered into the house, took one look at me, and asked me if I was a model. I still hadn’t had any coffee, so I wasn’t sure if I was suffering auditory hallucinations. “A model?”
“Yeah, you look like you could be a model.”
I told him I was a teacher, possibly the furthest thing from a model. “Well, you might have a second calling, brother.”
Ordinarily I might have been flattered, but I was disoriented and increasingly angry that our perfect new house was anything but, its actual guts in a state of delinquent disarray. Rick and Tom set about looking at the shoddy plumbing work, shaking their heads and clucking their tongues (the phrases “crap work” and “lipstick on a pig” were uttered). Not only was the cleanout valve worthless, but the downstairs bathroom’s waste line, which runs directly from the toilet, was routed directly into the cleanout valve.