True Love, Toilets, and How to Sell Your House

The girl I like (and who likes me) lives in New Jersey, twenty hours away from me, which is very distressing. I've only met her once in real life (meatspace), but that day was the happiest day of my life, literally. I just didn't know it at the time. 
Over the summer (I met her in late June), we used various communication networks and mobile phones to talk to each other, sometimes for hours at a time, and I was happy. 
Then school came along, and I could only talk to her for thirty minutes at a time, and then soccer came, and I was lucky to talk to her once a week.
Just tonight, she was on Facebook for the first time in a long time, and you know what I was doing: Fixing a bloody toilet because we have to sell our house. 
Long story short: Lover I am, Plumber I am not.