TITLE: Story about a plugged drain
DATE: 7:12:00 PM
Everybody knows the story: a home emergency turns your Day Off, into a workday.
You're taking a late Saturday-morning shower. So it doesn't register right away that you're standing in ankle-deep water. Drat. And a swipe of the catch with Kleenex won't do it; the drain is officially clogged.
You finish, and balance on the edge of the tub with an unwound length of an wire coat hanger, poking and probing out nasty gobs of hair and soap-stuff from the reachable regions of the pipe below, cringing but victorious with the thought that this dirty necessity is coming to some productive conclusion.
But then you discover it's not enough. You conduct a test to see if the tub can now pass water (with the stopper up), and sure enough, it's ankle-deep, once again.
The day is already totally shot. Time to trudge down to the nether regions of the house to explore this clog from the other side. Downstairs, in the garage, armed with a pail and a step stool, we're balanced below the curving question mark of pipe, relieved just above the ceiling of the floor, and we're gripping and grasping and pushing that curve straight with all our might, to get that curve to budge the clot.
The release of this particular part will open the pipe, reveal the clog, and free the weekend from this drudgery. It will be a golden crowning moment for all Harry Homeowners everywhere. Expertly applied brute force freeing a complication of its cage. Yes, this incredible white-hot strength will produce the resolution we seek: a victorious release of the drain from its evil soap-clot!
After several moments of grunting and hoping, and shaking and sweating, the pipe releases its rusty hold on the parent part and produces more clog for our effort. We are jubilant. Relieved.
But upon re-attaching and a subsequent water test -- ankle-deep water yet again. Damn!
Time to call the plumber.