After a marathon moving day yesterday, we are in the new house at Daybreak. I brushed my teeth in the new sink and happily watched the water easily slip down the drain instead of pooling in the basin.

Right now, I’m back at the Sugarhouse house, gathering the leftovers. The old sink is looking at me in the bathroom with its rust stains, jeering at me. No matter how hard I scrubbed or what toxic chemicals I used, I could never get that rust out. I almost liked the rust. It gave me an excuse not to clean the sink altogether. The slow drain, however, was another irritant that ate away at my love of the house.

In the end, it was a wish for drains that drain that created all this work. It might have been easier to hire a plumber.