Okay, so this all sounds a little morbid, but hear me out. I love my three daughters. Sarah, Rachel, and Kendra are the lights of my life, the apples of my metaphorical eye. I like my daughters a lot, and I'm convinced that our plumbing company is the only reason why we're able to keep all three around. It's great that we have plumber Austin whenever we need them.
You see, long hair is apparently in this season. The result has been that each of my daughters has cultivated a perfectly wavy flip of hair, Farah Fawcett style. I applaud their efforts entirely, but my drains are in a constant state of disrepair. It turns out that three teenage girls worth of hair is exactly how much is required to completely stop a tub.
Our plumber has been a true godsend in this trying time. He's been in and out of the house so often that he feels like some weird second cousin we just now met. I don't even have to say what's wrong; as soon as I open the door, he heads upstairs and takes a left. I'd tell him that he is the fragile glue that is holding this family together, but I feel like that might be a little creepy. Instead, I buy him lunch. It's a win-win.