The Bulging Biceps Syndrome
Right, for the umpteenth time, I have replaced the cold tap washer in the bathroom. Now, I don’t use it - Injun country you see. My wife won’t use the downstairs loo because our entire library is in there and is ashamed to point guests towards it. I think she’d rather them pee in the flower bed than use the dreaded downstairs loo.
We, like thousands of other South Africans have Cobra taps. Very efficient, lovely to behold and - ergonomic. So tell me this, what is it with women that, despite the fact that the water has long since ceased to run, do they feel compelled to turn the wretched tap another few degrees?
Within a couple of months and many wrenchings clockwise, the washer takes on the shape of a pancake parked under a tank. Not only that but Schwarzenegger couldn’t now close the thing and there it is, dripping like a geriatric’s willy.
No matter how many times I tell my wife just to use thumb and fingers, I see her with a face the colour of beetroot ‘just making sure the tap’s closed’.