Today was delivery day for my sink. My 60″ double bowl soapstone slab sink. My sink that, once crated, weighs in at 660 pounds. Fahrenheit. From Jersey City to Alachua, Florida, my sink was going to kind of follow my own trail of tears from my homeland from which I must now toil in exile.
Except I never took a detour to South Bend, Indiana.
But my sink?
Poor sink. At 3pm today, the ABF truck arrived. I was in Gainesville taking my son to his mrdanga lesson so he won’t resent me for raising him a super good looking Hare Krishna boy with bitchin’ hair and abs of steel without the real super power to make him stand out in a crowd. Just as I was pulling up to his lessons, the cellie rang. It was Chris, our main construction man (yes, we worship the stinky, sweaty, filthy white t-shirts this guy wears…his work is that good!). There was a problem
ABF guy did not have a sink in his truck. No.
No. No. No. ABF guy had two slabs of soapstone. Was the sink RTA? Despite knowing better, the thought did cross my mind. Not only was the shipment wrong, but it was cracked. I talked to Lotus and Vrindy before we left to get the kids and asked them to inspect the delivery before signing. And thankfully, that’s what they did.
But the weird thing was, the ABF guy was not going for it. He was not accepting the fact that they were rejecting the shipment, despite the massive cracks in somebody else’s slabs. So I had to come home to say, “Nope, I ordered a sink.” And still, the guy wanted to show me the crack. Yeah, okay. So, like, can you go now?
He refused to calle Michelle (who is fabulous) at M. Teixeira but was, thankfully, on his way.
Michelle was shocked, of course, to find out what happened. Immediately she got on the task of finding out where my sink was. I couldn’t resist. After she tracked it down she gave me a call back and I had to know. Where, oh where, was my sink?
South Bend, Indiana.
Sixty inch sink, come home soon. Uncracked. Please.