I’m plumbing my kitchen sink. It’s the worst, hardest, most frustrating thing I have ever done. Seriously. I know these days it’s popular to speak in the most extreme terms possible:
“That was the greatest movie ever.”
“That test was the worst.”
“I have a headache that is killing me.”
Please don’t think I’m doing that. I hate this with a passion I’ve never hated anything before. I even hate it beyond any interest in finding some kind of spiritual point in it, which I usually manage to do with most things. I hate it to the point where I’m sitting on my kitchen floor almost laughing sometimes (one of those evil laughs like you hear in the movies), because it is a better alternative than crying, ripping my brand new counter-top apart, yelling at one of my girls, getting really, really drunk (which would make it even harder to fix the sink), sticking my head in a blender, etc.
Funny how suffering is relative. I know some people right now who are literally suffering the worst thing that could ever happen in a family – the slow, horrible death of one of the family members. I realize that compared to suffering like that, what I’m going through is barely worthy of mention. Okay, it’s not worthy of mention at all. Normally that realization would put my emotions in proper perspective. Not this time. All I can think about is that no matter how much that situation sucks, plumbing my kitchen sink sucks too. I know it doesn’t suck half as bad, or in anywhere near the same way, but that doesn’t change the fact that it deeply, truly, genuinely, sincerely, completely, thoroughly sucks. [For those of my church brethren who are offended by my use of the word, “sucks,” please accept my apologies. It blows.]
Tomorrow I will again spend the day in the official “standing on my head” plumber position. (Of course you don’t know this, but it’s the position from which I’m typing at this moment.) Who knows, some of my family members might even have to start reminding me to say no to crack.
If you know what I mean.