The Third Tank

Now that the grout sealing is finished (pretty much--I still have some edges to do) and now that I don't have to reach the ceiling any more, I was able to remove the big piece of plywood from the tub. As I suspected, some of the dried mortar and grout had collected underneath. I really need to get the tub refinished but there's no time. I'm in warp drive mode now.

Next I put in the new toilet tank--it's the replacement tank that the company sent because the first tank had a crack, and the crack probably occurred because of my hubris in thinking that fate would not send me a brand new but defective toilet tank. How difficult is it to make a toilet tank?

So this time I turned the tables and actively predicted that things would go wrong. I convinced myself that the tank would leak or decompose or some crazy thing. Then I dared fate to let it happen. Go ahead, I said, and try it.

But this is what a fearful person does--puts on a mock display of courage, contempt and indifference, like some young kid daring a big bully to hit him, while on the inside he's all twisted with that sinking feeling, that sense of impending doom, the certain knowledge that this third tank will also be bad and that I will soak the house with water yet again.

It went in OK. The water slowly filled the cavity, and filled, and filled until it ran into the tank as if I flushed again and again. The water kept coming and would not stop. A broken valve. Really? But this time all I had to do is swap out the valve from the previous tank.

Now I walk by every 15 minutes or so, seriously, to see if the bathroom has filled with water or the tank has exploded for some reason. It's going to be a long night.