The pipe that busted was part of the plumbing for the shower in the downstairs bathroom. I first noticed a problem when I found rusty water in the bathtub. I didn’t want there to be anything wrong, so, of course, I ignored it. Then I noticed the water spot on the ceiling and I couldn’t avoid the problem any longer. I had no idea what to do because I didn’t know what was wrong or what was leaking or where it was coming from. So, reluctantly, I called The Ex. He reminded me that we had that problem about two years ago and to call a plumber. Wonderful. I reminded him that since we were technically still married and it was technically still our house, he was paying for it.
I went on Yahoo! Yellowpages and found someone that could come out that day. He looked vaguely familiar. He went in the garage where there is access to the plumbing for the downstairs bathroom. He noticed the handiwork from the last repair job and said, “I think I’ve been here before. I think I fixed this last time.” That explained why he looked familiar. But then I thought, shit, he obviously didn’t do a good job last time, so do I really want him working on it again? Well, it turned out that the last time the cold water pipe busted, this time it was the hot water pipe. (Or something. I don’t know, he could’ve said anything, it’s not like I could’ve argued with him. I don’t speak plumber.) So at least it wasn’t his last fix breaking down again. But the hot water pipe’s location was harder to access, and he had to cut out a piece of the ceiling in the bathroom to get to it. I haven’t had that patched up yet. It’s on my grown-up-stuff to do list.*
To be continued...
*Footnote: It may have taken me two years, but I had that piece of ceiling patched up. What? I have a very long grown-up-stuff to do list. I figure the longer it takes to finish it, the longer it'll take to be a real live grown up. It's called logic.