The beginning of my Easter weekend started out simple enough—help my son check on a leak in his slab.

Now, when someone says “just come take a look,” you picture a quick in-and-out job. Maybe a loose-fitting, maybe something obvious. Ten minutes, tops. You feel confident. Capable. Like a man who knows where his flashlight is.

What you don’t expect… is a full-blown plumbing adventure.

Since I was only supposed to be looking for a leak, I made the brilliant decision to leave all my tools at home. Normally, they live in my truck, but since I recently had some body work done, everything got unloaded—and apparently, my motivation to reload it went with it.

That decision came back to haunt me almost immediately.

Before heading to my son’s house, I had already been given my “honey-do” list for the day. My wife wanted a new overhead kitchen light installed and the handrails painted before our Easter guests arrived. So, naturally, I thought, “Let me just swing by, find this leak real quick, and get back home.”

Famous last words.

I picked up the light and paint, called my son, and headed over. When I got there, I grabbed the one and only tool I thought I’d need… my flashlight.

That flashlight and I were about to be very disappointed.

When I walked in, I found my son wrestling with a toilet. Not just any toilet—this was one of those “engineered by someone who hates plumbers” models. You know the kind. The connections are hidden, your hands don’t fit, and nothing is where it should be.

He was trying to replace the flush valve, and what should have been a simple job turned into a puzzle designed by a madman. You couldn’t even get your hand behind the tank to reach the nut. At one point, I ended up breaking the old valve just to get it out… which is always a confidence booster.

Eventually, he told me he had it under control, so I went back to my original mission: finding the world’s most elusive water leak.

About 15 minutes in, I heard some… colorful language coming from the bathroom.

That’s never a good sign.

Turns out, he was now fighting the same battle we just had—getting the new valve tight enough without being able to reach the nut. And since all my tools were sitting comfortably in my garage at home, we were working with whatever he had lying around… which wasn’t much.

After some struggling, twisting, and me contorting my body into shapes it was never designed to make, we admitted defeat and made a trip to the hardware store for some “special” wrenches.

Spoiler alert: they helped… but not much.

Eventually, through persistence, determination, and probably a little bit of stubbornness, we got the valve installed without leaks. Victory was ours… and so was the back pain.

Once I finally made it back home, it was time to tackle my original assignment. With my wife’s help, I replaced the kitchen light, then moved on to painting the handrails… along with a good portion of my shirt. Apparently, I believe in fully committing to a project—whether I mean to or not.

After finishing up, I rewarded myself the only way I know how: parked in my recliner, heating pad in place, enjoying the first of several cups of coffee like I had just completed a home improvement marathon—which, in my mind, I had.

Later that night, I took my meds as usual and noticed something looked a little off. Turns out, in the chaos of cleaning and rearranging, my medications got mixed up—and instead of taking my sodium bicarbonate, I doubled up on my muscle relaxers.

Now, if you’ve never done that before, let me tell you… It turns your entire next day into a slow-motion documentary.

I spent most of Easter in a fog.

Thankfully, it was a good kind of day. We had family over—my son and his girlfriend, my daughter and future son-in-law, and even her sister. There was food, laughter, and the added bonus of some first-time introductions.

It was one of those moments where everything just feels right.

Even if you’re slightly sedated.

After everyone left, I curled up in my recliner and took a much-needed nap.

Because sometimes the best way to end a long weekend of fixing everything for everyone else…
is to finally sit still long enough to not break anything else.