Today I was over at the house waiting for the plumbing inspector to look at the rough-in. The inspector was due to arrive anytime between four and six. Our contractor was there too, after the crew had gone home, so while we sat around he was fiddling with different things and sweeping up a little and so on.
Four-thirty came and went, and at about 4:45 we were both sitting out on the front step looking up and down the street for the inspector.
At five, he said “I am SO BORED!” and disappeared into the house. I wandered around the yard for a while and then, attracted by the sound of drilling and things thudding, went back in.
He was drilling holes in a bunch of studs and then snaking PEX water line around, banging up little supports and finally resting the PEX on a shelf. I looked at him and made questioning motions with my hands.
Then he took out a sharpie and wrote on the wall “POT-FILLER.”
I started jumping around and squeaking with excitement, which made him laugh at me, but I cannot help it. Dude, I have one million kids and my extended family is roughly the population of North Dakota. The prospect of having water at the stove has had me grinning all day.
The plumbing inspector stood us up, by the way. I have no idea whose lines got crossed but he never showed. We’re trying again tomorrow, and I am sorely tempted to pay off the inspector to go hide on the next street. I have a strong urge for a living-room koi pond…