In a funk

Gotta go back down there, I thought to myself. No choice. I assumed if I inserted myself in that hole again I would feel a little more comfortable. So I did. I needed to squirm into the next bay to get access to the problem. I had stuck a light down into the hole from above so that I could see the point to which to crawl. When I managed to get into the bay, I just lay there for a bit. Looked around.

With my friend Tony helping me out, we prepared to go down under. I borrowed a pair of coveralls, and we got lights and some tools in place.

Some water pipes broke. Again. Winter, apparently, holds a grudge. The break is in a cruel spot—just under the bathroom floor. Close enough to hear the drip, far enough to be unreachable by any civilized posture. I peer through the access opening and see what appears to be a metallic bowl of spaghetti assembled by a sleep-deprived raccoon. Pipes crossing pipes, angles defying reason. Nothing labeled. Nothing obvious. Just a cold, damp riddle.