How Fixing My Kitchen Plumbing Was Basically Debugging a Network Issue in Copper

Intro#

The first time I tried to fix the reduced water flow on our kitchen sink, I was feeling confident. I took everything apart like a seasoned IT pro diving into a misbehaving service—cleaned out every bit of debris I could find. It felt like progress. But then, after I reassembled it all? It was worse. Like “no internet connection but all the lights are green” worse.

I felt defeated. It was late, I was tired, and the temptation to throw in the towel and make it someone else’s problem was very real. But then that annoying little voice in the back of my head—the one that won’t shut up until I’ve seen something through—kicked in. I have a tendency to go down the rabbit hole when something breaks, obsessively poking and prodding until it makes sense, even when I know it’d be smarter to step back and break the problem into smaller pieces.

I reminded myself: I’ve solved far more complex issues than this. I had the tools—I just needed to shift my mindset and approach it systematically. I needed to treat this like an IT problem. In tech, we’ve got frameworks like ITIL, but really, it’s about methodically breaking a big mystery into smaller, solvable ones. In network troubleshooting, you trace the path of data packets: Is the problem with the ISP? The modem? The firewall? The router? The end-user device?

So with this plumbing problem staring me down, I stopped thinking like a homeowner and started thinking like a sysadmin. Instead of tracking packets, I was tracking the flow of H₂O molecules. Was the issue at the main? The water heater? The under-sink valves? A clogged hose? Or the faucet itself?

I didn’t have the answer yet, but I had a method. I just needed to approach it like any other infrastructure issue—systematically, step by step, layer by layer.

The Situation#

About a week ago, my wife mentioned that the faucet on the smaller kitchen sink was losing water pressure. I didn’t jump on it right away—life, work, the usual excuses—but when she brought it up again heading into the weekend, I figured I’d take a crack at it. I assumed it’d be a quick win. Swap a cartridge, maybe clean out some gunk. No big deal.

For context, since moving into our home a few years ago, I’ve unintentionally become the in-house plumbing department. I’ve tackled everything from a ceiling-destroying tub leak to replacing dishwasher lines, fixing leaky toilets, and upgrading faucets. If water flows through it, I’ve probably had to fix it. Not because I wanted to—but because I had to. I’ve even added some elective plumbing chaos of my own through my saltwater fish tank setup, which comes with its own tangled web of tubing, fittings, and water flow quirks. So yeah, let’s just say plumbing and I are pretty well acquainted.

Anyway, back to the veggie sink. Cold water was fine, but the hot side? Weak. Limp. Sad. I went through the basics: removed and cleaned the aerator, flushed the lines, disconnected hoses, and checked for clogs. The standard “turn it off and on again” routine of plumbing. And somehow, when I put everything back together… the pressure was worse. Fantastic.

That moment was a gut punch. I was tired, annoyed, and seriously considering just making it someone else’s problem. But something in me wouldn’t let it go. That persistent inner voice—the one that refuses to let unsolved problems win—kicked in. And with that mindset shift, I realized I wasn’t doing a plumbing repair anymore. I was debugging a system. And that system just happened to move water instead of data.

The Hypothesis#

Initially, I thought a bad cartridge was the culprit. Then I began questioning myself… maybe a clogged supply hose? Busted shutoff valve?

It was a classic Friday night curveball—the kind homeowners know all too well. I was tired, frustrated, and knee-deep in a problem that wasn’t giving up easily.

So I did what I’d do in a network outage: I mapped out the system in my head like a topology chart. Hot water line > tee valve > faucet and dishwasher split. Cold water was still flowing fine, which told me the issue wasn’t upstream pressure—it had to be somewhere along the hot water path.

The Packet Sniffing Phase#

The shutoff valve was suspect #1. It hadn’t been touched in years, and the odds of it failing silently felt pretty high. But here’s the thing—removing it meant cutting copper. And cutting copper means shutting off the water to the whole house. That’s the point in every YouTube tutorial where they quietly fade the music in and fast-forward the footage... because things get real.

Attempting that kind of invasive surgery on a Friday night, with fatigue setting in and limited backup plans, would’ve been like lighting a match while topping off a gas can—technically possible, but monumentally dumb.

So, I pumped the brakes. I decided to wait until the next day and do it right. I wanted time to think, prep, and make sure I had every part, tool, and backup scenario locked down.

Once Saturday morning rolled in and I’d had a proper dose of caffeine-fueled confidence, I committed.

Main shutoff? Turned off.
Lines? Drained.
Nerves? Steel.

At first, I used a pipe cutter, but after a few rotations it became clear the scoring was going to be uneven and time-consuming. So I ditched the fancy approach and went old-school: hacksaw in hand, I made the cuts, cleaned the edges, and deburred the 1/2" copper pipes until they gleamed. The prep work felt like setting up a clean server rack—meticulous, satisfying, and critical to getting it right.

With everything smooth and ready, I pressed on new SharkBite compression valves. Push-to-connect never felt so satisfying.

The New Hardware Layer#

Initially, I planned to tackle just the hot water side—that was the obvious problem child. But in true sysadmin fashion, I quickly pivoted to a full replacement strategy. If one part of the system was failing silently, the other likely wasn’t far behind.

So I took the “in for a penny, in for a pound” route and swapped both hot and cold shutoffs with SharkBite dual-outlet angle stop valves. These things are the plug-and-play NICs of the plumbing world: clean installs, zero special tools, and satisfying clicks that tell you you’re locked in.

Once the SharkBites were in and the chaos had settled, I turned my focus to the faucet. I knew the valves were new, the braided lines were new, and pressure was supposed to be flowing—but something was still off.

That’s when I started suspecting the faucet itself. Sure enough, I found the smoking gun: the original angle stop valves hadn’t just failed—they’d disintegrated. The rubber washers inside had degraded to the point of crumbling when turned, sending sediment and rubber shrapnel up the line and into the faucet’s internals.

Piece by piece, I dismantled the faucet, inspecting and cleaning every component. It was tedious, but necessary. Then I forced air backward through the hot water inlet with the water shut off, and out came a handful of fragmented gasket debris—black, gritty, and enough to explain the entire failure.

It was like clearing out a corrupted registry after years of junk data buildup.

At that moment, standing there with rubber chunks in my hand, it became crystal clear: cutting out soldered-on tee valves was the righ move! They were relics—degraded, unreliable, and just waiting to break again. Cutting them out of the system was future-proofing the hardware layer. Now, everything upstream of the faucet was modern, clean, and rock solid.

With everything reassembled, valves open, and lines pressurized, I turned on the faucet.

• Hot water? Full pressure.
• Cold water? Perfect.

The entire system worked better than it had in years. The flow was smooth, steady, and free of obstruction.

It felt just like clearing a stubborn DNS cache and watching the page finally load—fast, clean, and like it should’ve been all along. One quick tech tip for any IT pro’s that work on network problems… IT’S ALWAYS DNS! Once you determine the problem is not DNS-related, check again, becuase in my experience, IT’S ALWAYS DNS!!!

Anway, here is the final outcome under the sink:

Lessons Learned (a.k.a. the Post-Mortem)#

• Don’t assume the problem is simple
  “It’s probably just the aerator” is the plumbing version of “Have you tried turning it off and on again?” Sure, start there—but don’t stop there.

• Break the problem down
  Large issues are often just a cluster of smaller ones masquerading as a single failure. Isolate the variables and test each one. Divide and conquer always wins.

• Map the system
  Whether it’s a copper pipe or a CAT6 run, sketching out the flow—physical or logical—gives you clarity. It’s amazing how much easier the fix becomes once you can visualize the layout.

• Use the right tools
  The right tool turns an intimidating job into a 10-minute task. And when the right tool fails or doesn’t exist, adapt. Creativity counts—just don’t compromise safety or quality.

• Clean as you go
  Prep work is everything. Sand your pipes like you’re polishing a fiber line, deburr with precision, and keep your workspace sane. A clean install is a happy system.

• Know when to step back or go all in
  There’s a fine line between stubbornness and dedication. Sometimes the best move is to pause, rethink, and return with a better plan. Other times? Double down and see it through. That judgment call is what separates the rookies from the vets.

Final Thoughts#

At the end of the day, this wasn’t just about fixing a faucet—it was about solving a problem that, at first glance, felt completely outside my lane. Plumbing? Not my trade. But I leaned into the unknown with the same mindset I’ve used in IT for years: break it down, isolate variables, trace the flow, verify assumptions, and never underestimate the power of patience mixed with Google.

There was a spark of nostalgia in it too. It reminded me of those early consulting gigs where I’d get dropped into unfamiliar environments with half the info and double the expectations. You learn to adapt fast. Confidence, curiosity, and the willingness to learn on the fly become your best tools.

Even though I didn’t have all the answers up front, I trusted the process—and more importantly, I trusted myself to figure it out. And that’s the kind of lesson that sticks.

So whether you’re dealing with a flaky firewall rule or a faucet that’s lost its will to flow, the approach is the same. Systems are systems. The medium might change—water, data, whatever—but the logic stays universal.

And with the right mindset (and maybe a little plumber’s putty), you can solve just about anything. — Cliff