Fixing the Leaky Faucet This Week

The kitchen faucet started dripping last Monday. It was just a slow drop at first, echoing against the stainless sink in that way that gets under your skin after a while, but by Tuesday morning it had turned into a steady stream that kept me up. The sound mixed with the hum of the fridge and the occasional creak from the old floorboards, and I kept rolling over thinking maybe it would stop on its own. I decided to handle it myself instead of calling someone, mostly because the last time I tried that route it took three days for anyone to show up.

Wednesday after work I drove over to the hardware store near the old rail yard. The parking lot was half full of trucks with muddy tires, and inside the air smelled like sawdust and metal. They had the replacement cartridge in stock along with some new washers and a small tube of sealant that felt cool against my palm when I picked it up. The guy at the counter mentioned they were running low on a few sizes because of the dust storms that have been coming through from the west lately, and he wiped his hands on a rag while he talked. I grabbed an extra pack just in case, plus a pack of those little brass screws that always seem to go missing.

Back at home I shut off the water and got to work. The old cartridge came out without much trouble, though it left a faint mineral ring around the edge of the valve that I had to scrub at with a cloth. The new one needed a little extra pressure to seat properly, and my hands were already sore from gripping the pipe wrench. I had to run back out for a different size wrench after the first one slipped and clattered against the cabinet door, leaving a small dent in the wood. By the time I finished it was already dark, the window showing nothing but the reflection of the kitchen light. Ren got home while I was testing the water pressure and said it looked good from his angle, then kicked off his boots by the door and asked if I’d seen the mail.

We heated up leftovers and sat in the living room for a bit. The smell of reheated pasta sauce filled the space while a documentary on about Andrew Jackson’s third term played in the background, the narrator’s voice low and steady. I only caught parts of it while sorting through a drawer of old receipts, finding one from the grocery that still had a coffee stain on the corner. Ren mentioned something about the actor who played Jackson looking nothing like the portraits, and I nodded without looking up.

Thursday I noticed the drip was completely gone, so that was a win. The sink stayed quiet all morning while I made coffee. I used the leftover time to tighten a couple of cabinet hinges that had been loose for months, the screwdriver turning with that satisfying resistance before the doors stopped sagging. Nothing major, just the kind of thing that feels good to cross off, and I ended up wiping the inside of the cabinets too while I was at it.

Lissa stopped by Friday with a small tin of preserved barkfruit her aunt had sent. She set it on the counter and the lid made a soft metallic click when she tapped it. She said she still had two more tins at home and didn’t know what to do with them, then stayed for a glass of water and told me about the new bus route that was rerouting around the construction on Fifth. We ended up just leaving it on the counter for now. Ren’s mom is flying in from Halverston next month, so maybe she’ll have ideas, and I made a note to pick up extra coffee before then.

Over the weekend I walked down to the corner market for milk and bread. The usual route had a detour because of some road work near the bridge, the orange cones bright against the pavement and the sound of a jackhammer carrying over the breeze. It added a few minutes but the weather was nice so it didn’t feel like much of a bother, and I stopped to watch a dog chase a tennis ball in the small park across the street. I picked up a couple of extra sponges while I was there, along with a bag of those chocolate-covered almonds that always disappear too fast.

Sunday I did a load of laundry and wiped down the counters, the sponge leaving streaks that dried in the afternoon light. The faucet is still holding up fine. I might look at the shower head next if I have time during the week, though that one has been slow for a while now, and the towels from the dryer still carried a faint scent of the lavender sheets I used last time.