And I didn't catch the house on fire

You gotta' love when you have a project that would take a normal person (read someone who has taken shop or some other handy class in high school) maybe an hour takes you all fucking day. I had one of those Sundays.

Who in the hell puts a sink in the hallway? The people who owned the house before the people that we bought the house from did. So, we removed it. Now there's a big hole in the wall, a hole in the carpet where it was and all the shades of paint and styles of linoleum that existed before us. It was kinda' of cool to see the stylistic history of the house in small corner. Sad too. It just shows the only things permanent in life are ugly linoleum and bad paint choices (like Pepto pink).

Anways, get the water turned off, the pipes hacksawed in half and the torch ignited. Shit was going pretty good until I started catching a towel on fire. It started to spark and smoke a little. That's when "Maybe I should have hired a plumber" pops into mind. But, by the grace of someone who didn't want my house to catch on fire, perhaps the ghost of the man who put the sink in the hallway, it died out.

So, moral or point of the story? There isn't one. I just wanted to tell you all I soldered pipes without causing a major fire.