Leaky Faucet
Dink — dink — dink — dink.
The faucet in my kitchen was leaking water and stopping it was growing more difficult. The drips first came in thirty-second intervals, then faster, until the water became a steady stream of drips. When sitting on the sofa, my favorite spot to watch TV, I could hear the sound of the water hitting the steel sink. As the frequency of the drops increased, so did my frustration.
Each time I used the faucet there was a battle to stop the drip. Once I stopped the leak, I would declared myself the victor. I thought I conquered my foe. Gone was the noise, no longer would it torture my nerves. Or so I thought. Like cancer, the noise would return, tiny droplets crashing down upon the sink like boulders.
This interminable
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When the night was as silent as death and my wife and children slept in peace, the sound returned again. Teasing at first, soft and distant, muffled, increasing in volume and clarity, taunting me. Dink — dink — dink — dink. Is there no peace? Will it ever stop? As hard as I tried, the dripping sound always returned, faster, stronger, LOUDER! Peace was proving to be ephemeral. The next morning, I walked down the street to my landlord’s house and asked if she would send her handyman around. Every other time we needed him, he showed up within an hour or two, problem solved. Alas, it was the Thai New Year and he was on a hard whiskey ride and would not return for several days. I would need to fix the leaky faucet myself or wait for the landlord’s backup handyman. He too was on the whiskey. The sound grew sharper and more distinct. I could take it no longer. I cursed the sink the faucet, the house, and everything inside it. Then I walked outside to the front of my house, sat on a chair, propped my feet up and began contemplating the meaning of life. April is a stupid time for a new year. Thailand should have their new year in January, like most other …show more content…
Had she informed me she was going up on the roof to do a repair, I would have handled the matter my way, I would have paid someone to patch the hole. For weeks after repairing the roof, she felt the need to remind me not to shirk my household duties. As head lion and the man of the house, I was under the impression I had none. She climbed out from under the sink, mumbling under her breath as she walked away. I seized the opportunity and opened the cabinet beneath the sink to look for the shutoff valve. No luck. I followed the hose under the sink out through the side of the cabinet and lo and behold, right next to our refrigerator and up against the wall, was a goo-covered, red plastic shutoff valve. The thick gunk had dried and locked the valve in place. Not wanting to break the valve and cause a flood, I sent the wife out front to shut off the main water valve. Using my trusty Swiss Army knife, I sliced through the crud and peeled it away until the valve moved. I cut through the thick, plastic packaging, removed the faucet and placed it on the counter. Mrs. Fix-it came back with her rusty needle-nose pliers and a determined look on her face. “Move,” she said. Before I could say a word, she grabbed the faucet and was pushing it up through the hole in the counter. I took hold of the faucet and attempted to pull it into place. It didn’t fit. Without first removing the nut, the faucet would never fit. I heard a grunt and my wife rose from
My relationship with writing has been much like roller coaster.Some experiences I had no control over. Other experiences were more influential. Ultimately it wasn’t until I started reading not because I had to read but because I wanted to, that's when my relationship reached change. I would have probably never cared about writing as I do today if it weren't for the critics in my family. When I was a child, my aunts and uncles always been in competition with who's child is better in school. I have always hated reading and writing because of the pressure to prove my family wrong was overwhelming for me. I had to prove them wrong and show them that I was capable of being "smart" which according to them was getting straight A's in all your classes.
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Late December 2015 was, at the time, the worst month for me. It was around 8'o clock in the evening, the sun had set and the moon has risen to its’ fullest. I could smell the sweet aroma from the kitchen. I walked passed and into the living room, which was messy from all of our christmas decor. My mom yelled down the hall to my brothers.
All begin with the title and the first paragraph. I have to make sure that my first paragraph and title are not generic, this is a key factor to understand what my essay is about. I had to improve my writing style to be eye-catching, to make it easy to understand. The introduction of the thesis is the clickbait of my assignment; it has to be clear and focus and reach the reader.
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From here, my morning ritual begins, rich with the sounds of water: the galoosh of the toilet, the soft spattering of the shower, and the gurgle of coffee brewing in the kitchen. It's the coffee maker that totally captivates me, for I cannot begin to function mentally until I've had my cup of "go juice." I'll sit in a total stupor until that gurgling stops - my cue that it's ready. Before that, noting else matters. After a sip or two, I step under the whispering water of the shower and, if never fails, the phone rings. At least, I think it is ringing. Actually, it is just a subtle overtone, an aural hallucination that is produced by the shower.
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It was a beautiful sunny morning; you could hear the birds singing in the background. I just woke up after a long sleep. It was now 11am and everyone was awake whizzing all around the house and I wondered what all the havoc was about. I came across my mum and asked, “What was going on”. I got no reply. It was like my mum didn’t even see me if I was invisible. After that I could not be bothered to ask because it looked like another busy Sunday morning.