Thursday, June 13, 2019


I have this theory that I like to espouse regarding home repair: I don't mind doing plumbing because if you mess up you could end up wet. I don't feel the same way about electrical matters because if you mess up you could end up dead. This is my story, and I'm going to stick with it. In spite of my Monday battle with our bathroom sink.
It all started innocuously enough on Sunday evening, when I noticed that the sink was draining somewhat slowly. So I applied our household version of drain cleaner: baking soda and vinegar. Great burbles of black goo was what I got in response, so I figured I must be onto something. I remembered my previous trips down this path and left the puddle sit to slowly make its way down and away. I rinsed the excess mung and went on to bed, feeling  lightly satisfied in a plumbing sort of way.
Monday did not bring relief, as the morning's ablutions proved to be more than the drain could handle, and I made the decision to try something more invasive. Sticking a snake down the pipe didn't bring about the rushing flush that I had wished for, and I decided to try something more drastic. This meant going out to the garage and bringing back our real and true pipe wrench. I had hoped that the mere introduction of such a tool would frighten the pipes into behaving in the manner in which we had become accustomed.
No such luck. As I began taking things apart, I noticed that the collar to one of the fittings had a hole in it, and since my wife was busy at the grocery store, I took it upon myself to ride my bike up to the hardware store to buy a replacement. Simple enough. I came right back and started to put things back into place and when water was introduced to this new setup, a spray came out of yet another piece of the trap. At this point, my wife had returned and dutifully raced out to the hardware store to buy a replacement. That needed to be cut to size. Which meant I got to use my hacksaw.
But not before I used a flashlight to peer into the hole where the sink was attached to the wall. There was a pipe full of mud just a few inches away, which suggested that there was a good four feet of goop standing in the way of proper drainage. I chose to let someone with better tools than mine deal with that matter, but I would put things back into place before I gave up completely.
But not without discovering yet another hole in the third piece of the trap, the "J" as we were to learn, so off to yet another hardware store went my supply sergeant. I left a wet, muddy mess in the bathroom as I waited patiently for what I hoped would be the last piece in the puzzle that had been laid out in front of me so casually three hours earlier.
If it had been electricity, it would all be over now.
What doesn't kill us is probably plumbing.

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