Will Hines Dot Net

My toilet’s broken. The hose from the wall that fills the tank just snapped out of its brace, spraying water all around at a high pressure. My bathroom for one moment looked like a Blondie comic strip or an episode of Perfect Strangers.

I’m a great problem solver when it comes to abstract things like computer programs or picking directors for imaginary movies I haven’t written. But as soon as a problem-solving task requires that my hands get involved, I’m a moron. My landlord told me how to turn off the water, and after I did that I sat and stared at the hose trying to figure how I could fasten it to its brace temporarily until Repair People could arrive and fix things. I stared at it for fifteen minutes. It looked like the most complicated machine I could ever imagine. How did it EVER stay fastened to the pipe? There’s water shooting through it, for God’s sake! There’s no way in nature that this hose could ever stay fastened to the pipe, I determined.

Now I need to shower and perhaps, if I may be crude, poop.

Somewhere there’s a tent of dying refugees from some war-torn country telling me to shut the fuck up.

Added a few hours later: Hey, I fixed the toilet. I’m amazed at myself. I feel like I should win the Nobel Prize for Competence. This must be what my father felt like when he figured out how to send email.