I Fought the Clog, and
the Clog Won
He shall deliver thee in six
troubles:
yea, in seven there shall no evil
touch thee.
-- Job 5:19
Last
Friday night, the kitchen sink backed up and cascaded onto my beautiful maple
floor, cupping the planks and splattering down into the basement toy room.
Then the
laundry-room sink clogged, too. I had to hurl bucket after bucket of water out
onto the driveway from both sinks.
I'm recovering
from a rib injury. Lugging all those buckets of water was painful. I had to bend
over sideways and waddle like a deranged duck.
The
neighbors must've gotten an eyeful as this frowning, crab-like creature regularly
kicking open the door and bursting out onto the driveway, hurling buckets of
water and emitting peculiar grunts, like an over-the-top pagan ritual.
In
between hurls, I pumped the plunger and dumped drainer goo. But the flow still wouldn't
go no mo'.
The sinks
kept refilling. Where was all this water coming from?
What was
clogging the pipes?
And why
had our water pressure been so puny? It took an hour to fill up a pan, and all
I had to shampoo my hair was steam.
But I
didn't want to call a plumber. Who's got $4,000 an hour?
Meanwhile,
my spouse, who wears the logical/mechanical pants in the family, was
inconveniently out of town. So I was stumped.
Suddenly,
the overflow stopped. I stared suspiciously at the standing water for hours. Finally,
I collapsed into bed.
Next
morning, the sinks were empty! I rejoiced.
Too soon!
Eerily, 24 hours later, the overflow was back.
Again,
after an hour of crab-like scurrying and bucket hurling, it stopped. Again, next
morning it was allllll better.
My spouse
arrived home from softball Nationals in Georgia with our daughter late that
night. I described the clog. He brought up the Shrimp Peel Holocaust from our
newlywed days. Did NOT! I don't even put WATER down the disposal anymore. . . .
Meanwhile,
his suitcase sat on the tarmac in Atlanta in a thunderstorm. Everything was
drenched.
So the
next day, again crab-walking, I lugged three sacks of wet, stinky laundry to
the cleaners.
I also
had to take the dog to get spayed - HER plumbing needed attention, too.
The four
daughters all had crises going on. TLC Alert!
Then, suddenly,
my email startup page disappeared, with my irreplaceable contact lists. I was stumped.
Then the clog
came back.
And our
basement storage room flooded in a torrential downpour, so I had to wet-vac,
bent over sideways, both whining and grunting.
No
laundry, no dishwasher, no showers, and it smelled too plumbing-y to cook or
eat in the house. Desperate situation.
Finally, the
plumber came. He worked for two hours and couldn't get anywhere. He said to
call Roto Rooter.
Roto
Rooter worked for seven hours and couldn't get anywhere. They said to call the
plumber.
This
time, two came, with nuclear detonators, and finally fixed it.
Not
really. The weight of the water in the line apparently just pushed the clog
forward and out. Presto! It unclogged itself, basically. This, for $4,000 an
hour.
They said
the clog formed because the water line turns seven times through our house, when
it should be making a straight shot.
Ohhhhhh.
THAT made sense.
The
computer guru recovered my email, salvaging my self-esteem by saying the
problem was stupendously unusual.
Phone
communications were restored.
Everyone
got their TLC.
The dog feels
fine, now a "Ms."
The
laundry is fluffed and folded.
Once again
at peace, I sat down, and philosophized:
Life is
like a plumbing clog: mysterious, hidden, with twists and turns. Sometimes it really
ties us into knots, or makes us look silly.
Most
things in life work fine without our intervention, like plumbing. But when
things go wrong, if you hang in there, keep your sense of humor, and get help, eventually
problems will work themselves out.
That's my
story, and I'm sticking to it.
This
morning, though, my bathroom sink took a long, long time to drain.
I started
to panic. I could feel the urge to crab-walk. But then I got a hold of myself,
set my jaw, and told that clog off:
"Don't mess with me. This, too, shall pass." †
