My garbage disposal has been on the blink for nearly two years. It finally got so bad the water was taking forever to drain. I couldn't run the dishwasher, etc.
On the 11th, I called the local plumbing and heating people, who are notoriously slow in responding. I explained the problem, then the old man asked when I'd be home (from school.)
"I'm retired, so any time is great." Then, I thought about not using the sink until "any time" arrived. "If it gets as late as the 21st, I have an eye appointment in Des Moines, so I won't be here that day."
"I'll tell Matt."
He came late that afternoon, running the wire line out 25 feet to clean out the pipes, then installing a new garbage disposal. Spelunker, who was in the utility room snoozing when Matt first came, awoke. He peeked out the door, then withdrew. Matt had his back turned, squatting down, both sides of the cabinet open under the sink.
I walked over and talked quietly to Spelunker, who still hung back, so I picked him up and carried him into the living room with me. He hopped down and headed as if he were going into the kitchen. I got up to see that he didn't get into any mischief that would interfere with Matt's work. He wasn't there. He was not in the utility room, master bedroom, or bathroom. Puzzled, I returned to the living room to see him sitting under the new table, his new "cave".
He followed me back to the bath room, then ducked into the utility room instead of crossing the kitchen at my heels as he generally does. Matt's back was still turned, and he was through with the noise of the roto rooter. When I wiggled my fingers at him, he made a mad dash to my side. Matt didn't move. Soon, Spelunker was back to being his same old intrepid self. He conducted himself back to the utility room to use the kitty litter.
I asked Matt if 15 years was a normal life expectancy for a disposal, and he surprised me by saying, "That's excellent."
But, of course, being single, I don't run it as often as a family would.