Feel free to tug on Superman’s cape and take your chances spittin’ in the wind, but I do not recommend asking my dad if he wants your help with something.
Anything. Not ever.
If you do (and God bless if you do), one of two things will happen:
1) You’re shot down with a resounding, “Hell NO!”
2) You receive the “Why Would You Even Ask Me Such a Stupid Question?” look (Charlie ™).
Such was the case when the handle on our kitchen sink broke and Dad begrudgingly mustered up the energy to actually do something about it.
The week began with me attempting to fill a glass (or some form of container) with water using the tap at the kitchen sink. On employment of said device, the handle immediately popped out of the base causing me to yelp, “What the…?” and resulting in no way to turn the water back off again. The former drew Charlie’s attention straight away as he lunged head first into playing the blame game.
Now before I go on, I should mention I am not a physically burly woman. I’m tall, about 130 lbs soaking wet and have the upper body strength of a small kitten. I suppose, if I really wanted to, I could probably rip the whole thing out with my bare hands (after several days and the assistance of a herd of steroid-fueled pro wrestlers), but in this case my only intention was to simply get a glass of water.
“Don’t pull the handle so hard!” Dad shouted across the room.
“I didn’t! It just came out!” I answered, swinging the handle indignantly in his general direction.
This went on for about a week; handle popping out and me or Dad resentfully popping it back into place. Then one morning Dad had apparently had enough of either my complaining or his own procrastination on the topic and finally took on the task of replacing the kitchen faucet. (more…)