Three Years, Three Months, and Three Hours...

It was the first weekend in what seems like forever since I didn't have to be anywhere or do anything...

So I started on The List.

You see, The List is a two-sided, two-columned sheet of notebook paper filled with the things we need to accomplish around here before I feel that we can list our house and proceed with The Move. At the top of my list, of course, was to ultimately and permanently solve the problem of The Basemantic Ocean. It's been three years since this dirty, unnatural wonder appeared in our home, and through various "make-do" solutions and various jerry-rigging of pumps, buckets, and bins, this needs to Be Solved. Today. Now or never...

I put it off for about three hours. Three Years, Three Months, and Three Hours, to be exact. I fiddled with this, thought about that, slept in until Beaux and Hawthorne couldn't stand it anymore... You know, "procrastination" is a very under-appreciated gift...

Knowing that this is going to be a dirty, smelly, disgusting job, I wrap four plastic bags around each sneaker. Two sets of plastic gloves on each hand. Three differing sizes of pipe cap, pipe cement. One can of gunky sealant.

And the will of a god. A procrastinating god, mind you, but just as all-powerful when it comes to destroying Pipenagra Falls. All-powerful and just as ignorant as to what I was actually going to do...

I took the flashlight and peered deeply into the Dark Cave of Eternal Dripping. I stared at the mountain of duct tape connecting the old rusted pipe to the black plastic pipe which ran up to a tub, which in turn led to a sump pump, which in turn led to another small pipe, which led out the basement window, down underground and eventually reunited with the septic pipes outside which led to our drainfield. This last brainstorm of a fix had lasted the previous two years, working wonderfully to keep our basement relatively dry and free from various bodily waste and shower drippings from the floor above. But now surgery had to be performed. Sump pumps unplugged, pipes removed, duct tape ripped asunder, and a brand new shiny steel pipe cap was to be placed in all its pristine glory upon the rusted, 1940s pipe which ran along the floor with all the grace and beauty of an elephants ass.

I propped the flashlight on an up-side-down bucket and proceeded. I started by first turning on the pump and emptying the bin entirely, then removed it to the relative safety of the backyard. I grabbed my knife ("You call that a knife? This--this is a knife!") and proceeded to cut away at the duct tape. The Dark Cave of Eternal Dripping proceeded to drip in a more steady fashion. I steeled my nerve and continued with the operation. Sweat poured from my forehead as I held my body in the strange configuration that was required--slightly crouched, upper body thrust forward under the plastic sink, one hand holding the knife while the other wrapped around one of the sinks legs to around the side to the other end of Duct Tape Mountain, the light from the flashlight just peeking above my left shoulder casting my shadow upon most of the areas I needed to see...

Fun-fun-fun!

I could barely hear my Toad the Wet Sprocket album from the other end of the house on the first floor where it blasted at full volume (makes for happy neighbors!) and grasped the knife more tightly in my right hand, determined to complete my task. I could hear Hawthorne pacing back and forth in the bedroom above my head, wondering where I was, wondering why he couldn't be at my side. Getting frustrated, I reached down and grabbed the black plastic pipe and yanked!!

And landed on my ass, the pipe still intact...

Fun-fun-fun!

A steady stream now ran from the Dark Cave of Eternal Dripping, once again forming that in-door pool that is decidedly not in most people's fantasies...

With renewed determination, I attacked! I thrust the knife left-right-left, the water gushed faster. I stabbed, parried, jabbed and thrust! Water spurted out like the wound of a dying beast! I Zoro'd across the last bit of duct tape, landing a killing blow! The black pipe separated and fell to the floor, and the steel pipe... gave one little spurt of water and fell silent.

Victoriously elated, I went to stand up and celebrate my victory--and slammed my head against the top of the sink...

Feeling a bit more humble, I grab the gooey stuff, fill the cavity, lay down some pipe glue, place the cap in place, screw the collar tight...

And wait...

I went up and turned on the shower, then ran downstairs again to stare at the sutured wound...

And wait...

I run up and, with the shower still running, flush the toilet. I race back down the stairs, flash light in hand...

And wait...

Still no leakage.

I go back up, and with the shower still running, flush the toilet again, turn on the bathroom faucet, rush out, turn on the kitchen faucet, clutter back down the stairs...

And wait...

For a half an hour, smoking a cigarette to fill the empty silence in the darkness, waiting for something to happen...

Nothing was happening... (How often does that make for a happy ending? "And they lived happily ever after, with nothing happening...")

Feeling victorious once again, I go back up, turn off all the water sources except for the shower, and step under its flowing drops, free in the knowledge that I had just accomplished numero uno on my list...

Only seventy-two more things to go. And while that one was by far the biggest thing on The List and only took four hours to accomplish, I'm hoping it doesn't take another Three Years, Three Months, and Three Hours to get it all done... Otherwise, we may never see the sandy beaches of the Sunshine State...

Of course, procrastination may be under appreciated, but it does have a down side... Mostly consisting of a list that now only has seventy-two more things to do... And a lot less time to do it in...