Thursday, January 30, 2014

Good Times...

Yesterday was the first day in many days that my 8-mile commute home from work did not consume almost an hour of my life. Needless to say, after an unprecedented 20-minute return trip home, I was feeling good. No, I was feeling great. To celebrate, I stopped by Home Depot and loaded up on a few finishing touches for our galley. I envisioned a relaxing--yet productive--evening at home (er, boat) sipping on wine, while Eric and I knocked out some fun little projects. On deck for the evening? Swapping out our galley's purified water tap, replacing our galley sink's faucet, and updating our foot-pump faucet. Sounds easy, right? I estimated everything would take less than an hour.

I was wrong.

It took us an hour to discover that we were unable to unscrew the majority of our fixtures! And, of the few fixtures we were able to remove, the replacements I bought didn't work with our connections.

While frustrating, the fixture debacle isn't what monopolized our evening. Not even close. As I made my way to our engine room to retrieve yet another pair of pliers for Eric, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a slight dark mark on the floor of our front passageway...the floor just outside of our forward head (bathroom). I knew immediately what I was looking at--water damage.

I alerted Eric to the issue. Then, we hurriedly repackaged our never-to-be-installed galley fixtures and headed to the forward head to fix the leak.

Of course, before you can fix a leak, you need to locate the leak. So, despite already being exhausted from our previous (failed) endeavor, we decided to rip apart the forward head. By 9:00 PM, the floor was covered in screws and corded nails. Shortly thereafter, we removed a wall. Then, we struggled to put it back in place. At some point, I touched toilet water. We lost screws. I discovered a filthy spot behind the toilet that I have never once cleaned. We wore lights on our heads. There were knives. There were razor blades. Our backs burned. It was awful.

As I sat crumpled in the base of the shower dangerously attempted to pry open an access hatch with an untrustworthy pocket knife, it occurred to me that perhaps we should just turn off toilet and call it a night. At that same moment, Eric popped his head into the shower and said, "I don't want to do this anymore." I concurred.

Evening Fun Aboard Sea Gem
So, we turned off the water, put down our tools, switched off the lights, and wearily retired to our quarters. 

Tonight, Eric determined that there was no leak. I have no idea how this is even possible, as there is clearly a leak, but I have no motivation to continue the investigation. For now,"sweaty pipes" is what was named as the culprit. 

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