I don't know why he looked under the sink. It is one of the mysteries of life, but he looked, and now we know. We know about the leak, so now it must be fixed.
Something looked wet, so he moved things out of the way and then he moved more things out of the way, and then he yanked up all the insulation foam that he sprayed around the pipes when he remodeled the kitchen, and there was a wet hose.
So I handed him paper towels, and he dried off the hose, and then he twisted a handle that I'm assuming should have turned off the water to that hose. But it didn't do that. No, it didn't do that. I'm not totally sure what happened, and I'm not going to ask, but he said "Motherfucker!" and I could hear water spraying.
I couldn't SEE the water spraying, for which I am grateful, but there was water spraying under the cabinet and he had to go outside and turn off the water.
That made my next words somewhat anticlimactic, "Supper is ready", I say, almost apologetically. I mean, I've been simmering beans for hours and I made some buttermilk cornbread and fried potatoes, but somehow the leak under the house makes that less awesome than it could have been in a leak-less kitchen.
But he ate, after saying there was no way he could fix this tonight. So he ate. And he sat down for probably all of two minutes. Then he went outside with a shovel. It's dark and chilly out there, but he doesn't wait when something is wrong. It's not in his genes.
So he dug a hole, presumably; (I haven't gone outside to look, I'm just guessing what is going on my the sounds and my context clues). He came back in the house and said "It's been leaking a while, by the looks of it." And he went back out. Then he came back in with very muddy hands. And he didn't say anything.
