Tiny Bits Glued Together to Form the Semblance of a Whole

A post from 2009, I believe it was, re-written because I liked the original but thought I could do better...


As is common with me, a couple of things happen in a row and I'm off with my head in my hands, looking for patterns.

Two things of note today: the faucet fixture in the kitchen sink has been replaced, and I washed my hair.

I'll pause for a moment, here, to allow you to regain your breath.

The faucet in the kitchen has been unruly for a bit now, spraying unwanted water everywhere. This became serious when we discovered that there was also some sprayage going on under the sink, luckily landing in my "cleaning bucket", AKA the "cleaning boo-kay". Things had come to a head under the sink, so to speak; and so we dug deep and bought a new fixture with the money that was to have gone toward having my elbows polished.

You know, you save and you save...

Shortly before Jon and Mary arrived - Jon being the one to install the new faucet, Mary in a strictly supervisory capacity - I was in the shower, washing my hair, when some shampoo got in my eyes. This rarely happens, particularly whilst shampooing sober, and it instantly reminded me of my childhood, kneeling on a chair, my head in the sink, my mother washing my hair.

Do people still wash their hair in the kitchen sink? This was quite popular in my youth, at least in my family: the shampoo and conditioner on the counter, the towel draped around one's neck, the gradual and insidious seep of water down one's head and into one's eyes as your mother directed your head one way and then the other.

"My eyes! My eyes!"

Insert, here, the nervous cackling of my brother and sister as they await their own turn under the Faucet of Destiny.

Despite my assertions at the time that any future diagnosis of blindness would be attributed to my mother's careless and indiscriminate use of Prell (or was it Breck?), I have yet to be struck sightless.

And I am no more blind today than I have ever been.

Which brings me back to today.

The old kitchen faucet fixture is gone, and long live the new one. The replacement fixture in the kitchen sink is an elaborately raised faucet, a shepherd's staff of a spout designed for the filling of large pots and the washing of heads of all sizes - an improvement over the old, straightforward style of faucet.

And this makes me happy: A subtle and yet important change to the kitchen and a small vacation, if only in my mind.

Happy Thursday, everyone. I'm off to call my mother.