At first, this rescue was fun. I got to be assistant to my husband, which basically included going to the garage to find a shorter screwdriver.
In the beginning, I had hope. But as soon as that black slime emerged from underneath our bathroom cabinet that houses our bandages and cotton swabs, well, at first I was ready to move; then I decided that diamond wasn’t as important as I thought.
But now I’ll never complain about having a plumber out to the house. Those guys, and gals, too, just don’t get paid enough to rummage around in our filthy drains and pipes. Yuck. And kudos to a plumber’s spouse. I can’t imagine what kind of dinner conversation they have every evening, or what they have to launder out of their plumber’s uniform.
I believe that every experience is a learning experience. From this little adventure, I learned that sometimes it’s best to let the professionals do what they do best. I’ll have that ring cleaned by someone other than a journalist next time, and I’ll never go diamond diving again.
If you notice the waters of Moore are a little extra sparkly, you’ll know why.