General Fiction posted September 26, 2021 |
My 10-minute stint as a plumber's assistant
Keeping My Hands Clean
by Elizabeth Emerald
For the past year, my kitchen sink has been ever slower to drain.
Yet another item to add to my successor's to-do list.
Entry made, I returned to StoryLand.
Chuck (self-dubbed "non-resident man of the house"), ever up for a challenge, determined to tackle the sink.
Alas, Chuck is a staunch member of the "Mommy-Watch-Me" contingent. Since his mother is dead, I was conscripted as her surrogate.
I cringed in disgust as Chuck, reaming the under-sink pipe with a barbecue skewer sacrificed for the task, proudly displayed the odiferous sludge as he scooped hunks into my favorite aluminum pot.
When all was clear, Chuck replaced the cap, then asked me to turn on the tap.
The water rapidly pooled. As we waited ... and waited ... the water level didn't budge.
Chuck was crestfallen. He figured that whilst clearing the front of the pipe, he must have pushed a clot around the bend.
Time to call 506-657-1866: Plumber$$$ R Us.
Well, one last try.
Chuck had a hand-cranked 15-foot snake. He fed the snake through the pipe while I cranked.
When we withdrew the snake it was but barely coated with slime.
Defeated, Chuck replaced the cap.
Time to call 506-657-1866: Plumber$$$ R Us.
First, time for a tall glass of cold water, times two.
I positioned a glass directly underneath the faucet to avoid spillover destined to stagnate.
Poised to quickly swap the glasses as soon as the first was filled, I turned on the tap.
As I swapped glasses, I knocked over the filled one.
Flustered, I fumbled, turning the faucet full force.
We watched in amazement as the overflow whirled its way down the drain.
The final prod with the snake must have dislodged the blockage.
Time to go out to dinner.
My treat.
Yet another item to add to my successor's to-do list.
Entry made, I returned to StoryLand.
Chuck (self-dubbed "non-resident man of the house"), ever up for a challenge, determined to tackle the sink.
Alas, Chuck is a staunch member of the "Mommy-Watch-Me" contingent. Since his mother is dead, I was conscripted as her surrogate.
I cringed in disgust as Chuck, reaming the under-sink pipe with a barbecue skewer sacrificed for the task, proudly displayed the odiferous sludge as he scooped hunks into my favorite aluminum pot.
When all was clear, Chuck replaced the cap, then asked me to turn on the tap.
The water rapidly pooled. As we waited ... and waited ... the water level didn't budge.
Chuck was crestfallen. He figured that whilst clearing the front of the pipe, he must have pushed a clot around the bend.
Time to call 506-657-1866: Plumber$$$ R Us.
Well, one last try.
Chuck had a hand-cranked 15-foot snake. He fed the snake through the pipe while I cranked.
When we withdrew the snake it was but barely coated with slime.
Defeated, Chuck replaced the cap.
Time to call 506-657-1866: Plumber$$$ R Us.
First, time for a tall glass of cold water, times two.
I positioned a glass directly underneath the faucet to avoid spillover destined to stagnate.
Poised to quickly swap the glasses as soon as the first was filled, I turned on the tap.
As I swapped glasses, I knocked over the filled one.
Flustered, I fumbled, turning the faucet full force.
We watched in amazement as the overflow whirled its way down the drain.
The final prod with the snake must have dislodged the blockage.
Time to go out to dinner.
My treat.
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