9:34 pm. I am hiding downstairs at the computer, blogging. As I write, DH, aka DIY dude is upstairs trying to re-"thread" the toilet. This is a disaster of epic proportions. I love the fact that ANdy isn't afraid to tackle plumbing, but, dude... we need the crapper. He began at 6:12pm. Do the math. This toilet backs up to my bedroom wall and a 3yo man cub is sleeping in my bed. The girls have been warned, strongly, by me, to not bother DIY dude. No. Reason. No. H20. Are. They. To. Speak. To. Him.

The plumbing is iffy up there anyway. The sink DOES NOT work, except for a trickle. The aforesaid toilet, runs every 30 min. due to a slow leak from somewhere in the mysterious depths. Why did he decide to fix it tonight? We have lived here 6 years with that toilet leaking. Why tonight?

Now, he stomped down the stairs, bypassing me totally, and is in the bowels of the basement making crashing noises. oh boy. Just so you know, I am ensconced here in the TV room with an Australian Chardonnay and I'm not leaving.

There are some things that I swore I would NEVER do.

CLAPOTIS

A finished object for MIL's Christmas present. The Huckleberry Ascot from Interweave Knits Holiday Gifts 2007. My model is my 7yo dd.

Going to check the DIY dude. There is only a leak from the bottom of the crapper on 1 side vs. 2, progress. Uh-Oh. Loud tool dropping noise. Nope, not going up there. My technical skills go only so far as to :

• run a crockpot
• run other kitchen appliances
• run laundry appliances
• drive a car
  
• make bread
• successfully use a simple machine (spinning wheel), though it can be argued that a crapper is a simple machine
• change a lightbulb
• jury rig doll clothes

The man cub is up and 'helping' the DIY dude. Gotta go save his life. We'll be fine, don't worry. ha ha ha ha ah