Plumb Puzzled

I love plumbing analogies for the discussion of relationship dysfunctions. Within my own nuclear family (Hubs through the grandkids), I earnestly believe the love, respect and desire for tight family relations are abundant. They *just* aren't getting through often enough to actually create family bonds strong enough to be fully functional. I often call this, "Our plumbing clog."

I sit now beneath the old Chicago Motor windmill, looking at the newly dug hole surrounding what I hope is the hub of the ranch plumbing. I feel like an archeological detective trying to find what goes where in the miles of plumbing lines which run water to the barns and pastures. I am betting dollars to wishes that the electrical crew is going to hit at least one water pipe while they are digging the trench to run electric to the big barn. At present that will mean the house will be without plumbing for however many days it takes to fix the rupture. I am fully accustomed doing the dirty work on a job site, or even a domestic setting, but I get downright onery when I don't get my after dirty work shower. My hope has been to install a cut-off valve to the fields so that the house will still have water if a line is, indeed, ruptured during the trenching for the electrical lines. Just hoping. . . I feel blessed to have stumbled on a plumber who has a crush on AB (Assistant Beekeeper). Mere money wouldnae have been enough to bait most plumbers to tackling the archeology project. We have been striking out in finding the spot where the house lines and the field lines divide.

Monday's work included removing the old pump house that was crammed underneath the windmill. I have hopes of restoring the windmill, but that pump house was a seriously creepy hazard. I am way above the global median in handling creep factors and it was too creepy, even for me. My logical hunch said the tee we need was somewhere in or around the pump house, so I made demolishing the pump house a priority. Sure enough, the workers ruptured a water line during the demolition. It was way back in the darkest reachest of the pump house where even the brave dared not go. The workers were pretty blown away when I responded to the news with a happy dance. Yay me!!! Not even *I* can get them ALL wrong. Alas, I wasn't completely right, either. When the plumber tested his kluge work, the cut-off valve still cut off the entire compound, house included. Rather than pay company rates for the excavation work, I sent the plumber home and have been digging ever since. Wow! that's some creative plumbing in there. Bubbaneering at it's finest! Stick to milking cows, Honey.

I don't get to know if I have uncovered the tee we need until the new cut-off is installed. Just hoping. . . Prayers appreciated. The crush-driven plumber is scheduled to do the do tomorrow morning. For now, I am thrilled to be clearing access to the windmill ladder. That puppy sure does need an oil can. It complains like a honey-doing-dude. Continual squeaks and squawks at the slightest breeze.