Would you like to see my sink?
I’ll answer for you. No, you would not. Because this morning, at 8 a.m., just 45 minutes after my husband woke me up by doing sit ups at the foot of our bed, I was trying to clean the kitchen quietly, without waking the kids up. Because every sleeping second is sacred. I assume that’s the reason for the early-morning sit ups. Sometimes, you just need to do things alone, and 6:30 a.m. is the only time you have.
Anyway, I’m stalling. Stalling about writing about it, just like I’m stalling about doing anything about it.
This morning at 8 a.m. I ran the disposal without checking. I saw it before it happened. Just a split second before it happened. That piece of cooked pork, you know the one, the edge with the fat on it that everyone seems to push to the side. Usually, it makes it to the garbage. I had no reason to think it wouldn’t have this time. But I hadn’t checked. I should have checked. Never, ever run the disposal without checking, am I right?
Even as I went to wrap my fingers around its grimy, decaying frame, the suction grabbed it and pulled it down. Right past the old, basically useless chopper. Right into the pipe. Where it is still sitting. At 3:30 p.m.
Because I don’t wanna.
Oh, the picture. Here. Have a look. Because I’ve got the IQ of a chimp, I ran the dishwasher after this ordeal. What’s the worst that could happen, right?
Do you like my sign? I bought it specifically for times like these. Because I know me, and I knew there would be times like these. And that plunger over there? Didn’t work. I mean, there is an inch-thick piece of pork about three and a half inches long stuck in that pipe. It’s not going anywhere.
And I don’t wanna.
Just call a plumber and get it over with, right?
Well, we rent.
Even better! Call the landlady. Get that crap taken care of.
Except then I have to admit to everyone (not counting you all) that I’m the idiot who let my sink eat an entire pig.
I’ll wait it out. There’s got to be a way.
I’ll use this:
You can’t go wrong with a surprisingly cheerfully red bucket, can you? With the bucket, plunger and Drano by my side, I’ll be sure to best this this.
Only, I didn’t have Drano.
Oh, well, drat. Guess I’ll have to pack everyone up and go to the store first. Pity, really. And since we’re already out and about and it’s close to lunch time, how about take out food at the park for lunch? Yay! I’m the best mom ever.
The best mom ever who does not want to.
By the time we get back, it’s past 2 p.m. Off to bed with the little ones. And I can’t try to fix the sink while they’re sleeping. It would be too loud.
So, yeah, that’s my sink.
When they get up, we’ll go after that sucker with the bucket. Then we’ll dump boiling water down there, and plunge. Then we’ll have to use the bucket to get the boiling water out, since that won’t work. Then we’ll Drano and plunge. Then we’ll have to wait for my husband to come home when that doesn’t work, so he can empty the catch basin pipe thingie. Then he’ll have to quickly put it back together while I call the landlady to call the plumber, which is what I really should have done this morning at 8 a.m.
But I didn’t wanna.
And people say I don’t listen to advice. Pfft, please.
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