Today was a gorgeous day in Portland. After picking up my freshly-rehaired bow, trading musician gossip with B., teaching the kids at PATHS, and cleaning my apartment, I strode out the door for a walk to church to pick up the music for Sunday. On the way back, I stopped at the Paris Farmers Union to pick up a new flapper for the downstairs toilet.
Once back at home, I quickly made the flapper switcheroo and was delighted that the tank filled and remained filled. Woohoo! Not wanting to throw the old flapper away (though what I'll use it for I have no idea, I just can't bear to pitch it), I debated about where to store it. Finally I decided on the under-sink cabinet in the bathroom that I never use. I opened up the cabinet, and there on the shelf was...a new toilet flapper. Actually, a 2-pack of flappers, with one missing. From the previous homeowners. Yup.
This requires a corollary to Bruce's Law.
Bruce's Law (Corollary 1):
The replacement part you bought was the one you already had but didn't know it.
Bruce's Law (Corollary 2):
The replacement part you bought was one that you know you have somewhere but you told your wife you don't have one because you can't find it because the cellar/garage is too messy. Ahem.
#2 applies to my dad, not to me, though sometimes I do wish I had a wife, or at least someone to occasionally cook me dinner and rub my feet and knock some sense into me when I'm doing something dumb/insane/dangerous/fattening. Although I'm not into girls, so it would have to be a husband. Do husbands do that? If so, sign me up!