Know-it-All

"You don't know what you are doing."
"Carla, please. I'm not stupid. I can do this."
"Jake, call the plumber. You're going to make things worse."
"Shut up, Carla. You're distracting me!"

Shaking her head, Carla left the bathroom. She knew she should just call a professional before her husband ended up doing more damage than had already been done, but then he'd accuse her of having no faith in him, no trust.

With a sigh, she sat down and tried to concentrate on the New York Times crossword puzzle she had started that morning at breakfast, but the clanking sounds and occasional swearing coming from the bathroom proved to be far too distracting.

A loud crash caused her to start. "Jake, are you okay?" Carla called out, anxiously.
"I'm fine, dear," aggravation was apparent in his voice. "I lost my grip on the damn wrench."

Another crash sounded, louder than the first one. Carla hurried to the bathroom door and peered in.

"Jake? Are you alright? Jake?"

She could see his body from the neck down, his head hidden by the cupboard door. He was lying still and all was quiet.

"Jake?"

Carla cautiously approached the bathroom sink. Peering into the dark cupboard underneath it, she saw that her spouse was out cold. A pipe had come loose and water was pouring down onto his face, forming an alarmingly large puddle on the floor.

Worried that he'd drown, Carla pulled on Jake's legs, dragging him out of the bathroom and onto the hall carpet. She called 911 and after they took him away she peeked under the sink to have a look.

"Oh, there's the problem!" With a self-satisfied smirk, she fixed it.