I'm Your Handyman

Two days ago I noticed the faucet in our bathroom was leaking. The drip-dropping wasn’t alarming though, so I immediately forgot about it.

Late last night when I got home, amidst the sound of howling winds rose a more worrisome sound: drip-drip-drip-drip-drip-drip. It was faster, louder and more urgent-sounding than when I first heard it.

That sound made me miss my Dad. He was the handyman in the house. My mom might ask me to take care of this plumbing problem. I might have to bring out the plumber in me.

This morning I told my mom about the faucet. “Oh, your brother’s taking care of it already,” she said.

Whew! Butch McVie is back in the closet for now.