My shower has always had a bit of a drip . . . but while I was away for the conference, it turned into more of a stream.
I had been advised that when it comes to leaky faucets, it's best to try and fix it yourself. So that's what I did.
I know about as much about plumbing as I do brain surgery . . . which should have been my first hint not to touch anything.
I fiddled with a few knobs and before I knew it was holding the only movable part of my shower in my hand.
At first I couldn't get it back on . . . but with a little elbow grease and prayer for a miracle, the nozzle slipped back in place.
My fear of not being able to shower greatly outweighed my desire to Mrs.FixIt (we all get to play the 'shallow' card once in a while). So, this morning, I called in the big guns.
I left Soho the Plumber alone in my bathroom to work his magic. After a little while, I stepped in to check on the progress.
He resembled the Little Dutch Boy . . . just old and African.
He was leaning over the side of the tub, left hand pressed flat over the hole where the water faucet was supposed to be. In his right hand was the biggest wrench I've ever seen.
He was soaking wet!
Suddenly the wrench slipped from his grasp and landed with a thud on the floor of my tub. I instinctively reached for it . . . just as he did.
Water came shooting from behind his hand . . . right into my face!
It was only for a split second, but it was enough!
And like the water spewing from my shower came our roars of laughters!
He got the spout covered again and we managed to communicate enough for a handoff of the pieces he needed to finish the job.
We laughed again and again as he recounted the story to me in Hausa, as if I hadn't been there!