Monday, February 02, 2004

Cleaning Pipes

I recently moved back to my mom's house. She lives deep in the heart of Deliverance country. Not that where I was living before was a booming metropolis by any means, but here, I fear everyday that I will be forced to squeal.

Here at my mom's house, I basically have an entire wing to myself. If it were not for the fact that I live an hour away from anything at all, this would be the perfect living situation for me. I get so bored here. I have also noticed that I am beginning to lose my mind.

Example, I fought with my shower's drain for two days trying to get it to drain. The bathroom I am using now is my little sister's old one. I have decided that she sheds more than a chinchilla. The tub would empty, but by the time I had finished taking a shower, I could sit down for a bath. It was rather disgusting. I decided that since my grandfather was a plumber, I was, surely, born with some natural skills in the hole penetrating arts. I pulled out the plunger and began trying my hand at being Mr. Fix-It. After plunging and plunging for what seemed like hours (in all reality it was probably three minutes, tops), I decided to go and buy some Drano...Professional Strength. I am afterall, thanks in large part to my lineage, a professional at this sort of thing.

So I bought the three bottles of Drano...Professional Strength, went home, and began to tap into my roots. Only half the bottle went down the drain. EGHAD!! What the hell! It says perfectly clear on the back of the bottle, "Pour ENTIRE contents down drain." What was I to do? And what the HELL had my sister been shoving down the shower drain? I was pissed. Then again, I am very easily irritated.

Eight hours and three bottles later, I decided to call the 800 number on the Drano bottle. Just in case I was missing something in its complex directions. "Pour. Wait. Rinse." The extremely friendly lady told me that if three bottles didn't work I'd have to call a plumber. Does she not realize who my grandfather is?! He was doing this shit before Mario and Luigi were even a concept. Anyway, she gave me a refund on the Drano, which was nice but not necessary. I told her to have a great day and hung up.

Well, my parents returned from Vegas on Saturday. When I got off work, I told my stepdad about the drain. I thought maybe something in his hetero genes might allow him to figure out what the hell was wrong. This morning, he fixed it.

Basically, there is this little switch that one flips up or down in the bathtub to control whether the drain is open or closed. Apparently, for the past week, it has been halfway closed.

All I can say is thank the gods for heterosexual men. Or at least for people with brains.