Too many faucets

Beth suggested a trip to Nu-Way to get some bathroom ideas. We made the trip and learned that they also do kitchen and bathroom cabinets, so we got some ideas there, too. I know we won't be able to afford their cabinetry line, but the ideas are helpful.

When I say "we" got ideas, I mean Beth and me. Bob thinks the multitude of choices is too much, trusts that I'll pick something reasonable (I hope!) and prefers to stay out of discussions about wood finishes and paint colors. Instead, he dropped us off and got his wedding ring cut off his finger. Nope, no divorce looms yet from this big project, but his finger swelled up and started to bleed after the work bee and I feared gangrene. He also washed the car and picked up some supplies — all the while avoiding looking at faucets.

I must admit, although I thrive for the detail of this project, it just seems wrong that so many bathroom faucet choices even exist. I mean, after we returned from Honduras and again from Belarus, we felt like we already had too much and that we'd gladly live on less. And here we are getting haughty over whether the polished nickel or antique bronze finish better compliments a traditional farmhouse style.

I'll continue to go through the catalogs and pick out a bathtub, shower fixtures, cabinets, faucets and all the goodies. If I didn't, Bob would pick for me. His choice? "What's the cheapest option that will still last 40 years?"


I'm going to blame Beth for what happened that night because, even though she had absolutely nothing to do with it, I figure if we hadn't driven to Nu-Way as she suggested none of this ever would have happened. As if. We got a flat tire two-thirds of the way back home from the farm. It was dark. It was muddy. My flashlights were missing. Our cell phones provided our only light. The spare tire fought with us every step of the way. The girls were cranky. We were cranky. We finally got the donut put on in less than an hour, in part thanks to a very nice woman who happened to have three drops of WD-40 left in her can (Who carries that stuff around? God bless her!).

At least I had lots of experience changing tires after all those blown on Dad's lawnmower last week.

At some point as we crept home at 40 mph, I vaguely remember a nice white pickup passing us hauling a skidsteer on a trailer. We saw it next as we turned toward home, in the ditch. We pulled over to help, hoping to pass on the kindness that strangers showed to us as the pulled over offering to help with our tire (all after it was nearly done, as luck would have it.) Anyway, it turned out to be a drunk guy telling us, "I'm screwed!" and refusing to let us call a tow truck for him. I guess he thought that by admitting he had been drinking we would show some kind of mercy on him and magically remove the truck, trailer and machinery from the ditch, so I pulled away and called 911. At least that poured some mercy upon the people he could have hurt with his huge, drunk load that night — including us. I can only hope he'll learn something, but who knows?

This morning — you know, the only morning I really didn't want to miss church — Bob went out to the van and saw that even the donut was flat. The girls missed Sunday School, but thanks to Bob hauling a tire on the scooter in the rain to fill it up (it looked as funny as it sounds), me getting a can of Fix-A-Flat, and some teamwork, we managed to limp to church. Bob dropped us off and headed to Wal-mart, which we would prefer to avoid, but happens to be the only place in the entire Thumb open to fix tires on a Sunday. Addy got to sing the song she had been practicing all week in church. Dori stood there and looked cute, choosing not to sing for once. Addy received her very own Bible with all the other first-graders. Dori whined loud enough for the entire congregation to hear, "Mama, I want one!" I was installed as a Sunday School teacher. Then, as church was about to end, Bob walked in. The month-old tire was shredded, so we have another new one on the van. We now have our own cans of WD-40 and Fix-A-Flat to carry in it. We were able to enjoy the Rally Day potluck dinner, the kids won way too much candy at the games, then we drove home safely. Ugh.