So Gene and I played hooky from work to fix the broken water pipe. We got the kids off to school and Gene went to Menard's for supplies while I stayed home and cleaned cat vomit. Molo puked right in front of the middle wheel on our bed frame so when I moved the bed out I tracked chunks all over the floor. Then I had to keep rolling and tracking chunks to get all the nasty off the wheel. It was a wonderful time.
Gene's next two hours would be 100 times more "wonderful." He donned several layers of clothes and a rainsuit and descended into the scummy, spiderwebby depths of the crawl space. Or in our case, the belly crawl space. Yuck. We had walkie talkies (yes, I'm serious) so he could communicate when he wanted me to turn on/off the water or bring him a tool or (yes, I'm serious) a cup to pee in. I think I did my job really well. I mean, it was a little annoying to have to keep getting up from my computer or book to play gofer.
But seriously, Gene dug his way to the broken pipe and managed to repair it with some kind of putty despite the fact that it was right against another pipe. He then had to stand in the hole of the crawl space for 40 minutes while the putty cured because he was too filthy to come out. He was covered head to toe in mud. Because of the placement of the pipe, it was impossible for him to use the recommended gloves with the putty so his hands are covered in it. It will NOT come off! His hands are going to HURT tomorrow after the hours of scrubbing and picking he's put in today.
When the 40 minutes were up, I turned the water back on and... There was no leak!!! He fixed it!!! For now, we won't have to have a contractor come in and rip out our floors and pay thousands of dollars! It's almost 7:30pm and it's holding. He used the same putty on a pipe under the kitchen a couple years ago and it's still holding. Fingers crossed...