My BFF is Mary Alice Murphy. Well, that's her chosen Witness Protection Program name and thus how she will be known here. When I get lazy, I'll call her M.A. but never M.A.M. because I know too much dirt to ever be so formal.
Mary Alice and I met in 1979. (That's almost 30 years, people! I'm not old enough to know someone that long!) When we met, she was a Peter-Pan-collar-wearin' goody-two-shoes but I liked her anyway. We were friends all through high school, even after I sort of but not really stole her boyfriend at a costume party. She married a really great guy who corrupted her. She still loves the Peter Pan collars (I won't let her wear them) but can curse like a sailor and has a truly warped mind. An essential attribute in a BFF, if you ask me.
I got married, too, (mine didn't stick) and the four of us were inseparable. I think the fellas bonded out of necessity, so they would have someone to commiserate with. Like the time the sprayer on my kitchen sink broke. I figured if we were going to mess around with the sink, then I wanted to replace the faucet with one of those new-fangled ones that has the sprayer right in it. After consulting with my dad and the Internet, M.A. and I decided that we could fix it ourselves. The soon-to-be-ex opposed that idea but certainly wouldn't do it himself.
Mary Alice and I skipped over to the hardware store and purchased everything we needed, including a pipe wrench. Made me feel capable and somehow macho to buy a pipe wrench. We skipped back home, removed the old faucet and sprayer and installed the new one. Everything went smoothly...except we couldn't get the hot water line to stop leaking at the joint where the new line met the pipe coming from the floor.
Did I mention that this was a Sunday afternoon? Yeah. Hubris R Us. So after several attempts to stop the leaking, I called a plumber. He patiently listened to my situation, said we probably just didn't tighten the connection enough and that he wasn't going to come out on Sunday afternoon and charge us triple time to fix something like that. He'd be there bright and early Monday morning. Okie-dokie, Mr. Plumber Man!
When we started the project, we discovered that the shut off valve under the sink was broken so we couldn't just turn the water off to that sink. The leak was only a leak, not a hemorrage, but it was strong enough that packing a couple of towels around the pipe for the night wasn't going to cut it. So we had to turn off the water to the whole house.
By this time, the ex's blood pressure was of more concern than the water leaking onto the kitchen floor. He was NOT happy that he had to sleep without water available should he become suddenly dehydrated in the middle of the night. Mary Alice, my BFF, the woman who always has my 6, slunk out of the room when the ex's BP spiked and his head exploded off of his shoulders. Apparently bravery is not an attribute I value in a BFF.
Somehow the ex and I made it through the night alive and quenched. Mr. Plumber Man arrived bright and early Monday morning, tightened the joint and fixed the broken valve. I had a gorgeous, sexy new faucet and my kitchen remained spotless forever after. Well, ok, that last part's not true but I like to dream.
The threat of hiring Lucy & Ethel's Plumbing Service still strikes fear into the heart of M.A.'s husband.
Surprise, surprise, this post veered off on a tangent. Sometimes I think my whole life is a series of tangents. I'll have to tell you why Mary Alice is the world's greatest BFF another day.
My WPP name? Lupe, but don't tell because I may need it someday.