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Historical February–March 2022 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
Oh, Joy!
I can hardly contain myself. Heart be still! No, it’s not that thanks to the feds, the Loop Trolley is reviving and expanding. It’s not even that Donald Trump will be indicted for his post-election antics.
The groundbreaking news that generates such excitement is much more significant than any of these positive events. You see, Apple Computer announced that they will give people access to their iPhones so that we can make repairs. Happy days are here again! Where’s my tiny screwdriver? Alas, dear reader, my linguistic skills fail me because you probably didn’t discern that the previous paragraph drips with sarcasm.
My having access to Apple’s iPhone isn’t good news at all. No, it alarming, concerning, and a disaster waiting to happen. You may have the technological skills and mechanical wherewithal to enter the Apple techno-labyrinth and make things better and/or have the wisdom not to try.
I definitely do not have the former, but thankfully, now, I have the latter. Much has changed in my almost four-score years of life, but one consistency is my inability to fix anything that is mechanical. Or electrical. Or if it moves. Perhaps the highlight of my ineptitude – some might call it a lowlight, but occasionally something can be so bad that it is good – occurred the day after my wedding.
This is a true story. You see, my wife and I were married, and everything went as planned.
The reception in the VFW hall was loud, but not too loud, and the mostaccioli was spicey but not too spicey.
The next day we arrived at the home we were renting, and Handyman Hawkeye decided to start married life by making a small repair.
I wanted to replace the old wooden toilet seat with a new plastic one. That certainly was simple.
I mean, what could go wrong?
In fact, one of our wedding presents was a tool kit from Central Hardware, including screwdrivers and wrenches, and I saw this as a sign to begin being handy on day #1 as a husband.
I kneeled next to the commode, put the wrench around the nut holding the toilet seat, and began to turn.
But nothing moved!
It was clear that the toilet seat had not been replaced for a long time, maybe ever, because this nut was rusty and resisted turning. Not a problem, I thought, as with many of life’s challenges, a little more brute force will do the trick, so I gave the wrench a final, mighty push. And I was successful because something happened.
This has to be progress, right? Wrong.
It turns out that instead of my efforts loosening the nut so I could remove the toilet seat, I had cracked the porcelain commode. Huh?
Then I realized that since I was above the nut and looking down, I had actually been turning right to tighten, not left to loosen; my efforts to unscrew the nut were really tightening it. No wonder it didn’t turn!
My skillful use of brute force tightened and tightened the nut until the porcelain commode broke. How embarrassing.
But there’s more. Fortunately, the crack occurred above the water line in the commode. Unfortunately, exhibiting yet another example of ineptitude, I am consistent, I flushed the toilet to see what would happen. No surprise – although I was surprised – the water that flowed in to refill the commode poured out through the newly created crack in the porcelain and flooded the bathroom. Our rented home only had one toilet, so before breakfast on day #2 of married life, my wife and I went to a nearby gas station to use their toilets. Thank goodness a real handyman came and installed a new commode and attached the now very expensive plastic toilet seat.
I cannot take all the credit for my handy ineptitude because there’s a genetic piece. Neither my mom or dad fixed anything, and that usually included dinner.
My mom stored her important papers in the oven, knowing they would be ignored and safe.
I do recall them once trying to install new linoleum tile on the bathroom floor, and to get access to the area under the tub, they removed the four claw-type feet on which the old oval tub was suspended. Fortunately, the water pipes were strong enough to support the suspended tub a few inches above the floor even though its feet were now missing. Unfortunately, those pipes were not strong enough to support the tub when my mom stepped into it to put a piece of tile against the wall.
The pipes broke and flooded the bathroom with water.
I was just an observer, sort of in training to learn how not to be handy, and I remember biting my cheek so I would not laugh.
Another misfortune is that our apartment was on the second floor and the water shut-off was in the basement.
The third misfortune, not counting the time it took to get to the basement, is that neither of my parents knew where the shut-off valve was located.
I had to really work not to laugh aloud as they searched the basement, and I learned quite a few new vocabulary words from my dad. So you can see why I approach the opportunity to open and repair my iPhone with some trepidation. No, make that with a lot of trepidation.
My guess is that Apple shop and I will remain good friends, and that’s OK.
As my dad used to say, “It’s only money.” On the other hand, how hard could fixing this be?
I mean, changing a toilet seat has to be more complex than repairing an iPhone.
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, February–March 2022.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Original source: SD_Times2022_02.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
