I arrived home from holiday last weekend to discover a leak under the sink.
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Never a good omen for the home handyman.
Nearly as distressing as watching the PM knock out April Sun in Cuba on his ukele that night.
My first thought was, how could the PM murder that Dragon classic?
My second thought was why would my sink start leaking the minute I got home from holiday?
The good news was the sink hadn't started to leak the minute I WENT on holiday.
But never underestimate the home handyman's ability to ignore the positives.
Particularly once they get under the sink and start applying a wrench to everything, especially their emotions.
Clearly I was moving through the seven stages of home handyman grief, starting with Aw Jesus.
Then Good God. Before trailing off into a series of heavy sighs.
Employing mindfulness techniques, I attempted to not worry about things I couldn't control, like plumbing.
But leaks under sinks tend to defy mindfulness techniques because leaks under sinks tend to stay so persistently on your mind. And potentially all over your floor, if you don't do something about them.
A bit like ukulele-playing politicians in an election year.
They just don't go away no matter how much you wish you could un-hear that version of April Sun In Cuba.
Focusing on the positive, I attempted to put things into focus. Which was a lot of focusing at that stage, and not much positive.
It isn't easy when you're kneeling down and cracking up. But plumbing is pretty simple if you don't think about it.
Water flows anti-clockwise down the drain in the southern hemisphere.
A bit like home handyman morale.
But enough of the pep talk, it was time for action. Eat my fear.
Peering into the abyss I could see the potatoes stored under the sink. They had started to sprout in the darkness and in that moment I felt a kindred spirit.
I too began to sprout - into prayer - that whatever I did wouldn't make the problem worse. But as our PM knows, it's not easy stopping leaks, and prayer can only tame so much.
So I started to ponder miracles, because I reckoned getting a plumber on a Sunday night would qualify as one if it came to that.
My faith was starting to waiver as I positioned plastic containers and began to tinker.
I needed a quick fix and contrary to mindfulness, the more bolts I tightened up, the less trouble seemed to pour down. Even though at any stage I felt in danger of losing the thread.
It wasn't meant to be a political commentary, but it would sure explain that rendition of April Sun In Cuba.
Plumbing-wise, it seemed to make my leak go away for the time being.
But, I suspect on many fronts the drips still remain.
