Trapped

Why?

Why does everything fall apart at the most inopportune time?

Maybe it just SEEMS like it does. But really, these failures are ones that I believe I would remember individually even if they didn't happen in groups.

I would remember the sink clog.

As an individual event. I would remember. I know I would.

Cosmic forces, for the most part, work with me. I am one with the cosmic forces. But every now and then I yin when the the aforementioned cosmic forces yang - and all hell breaks loose. Last week was a reminder of the chaos that can occur when your cosmic forces decide on helter/skelter instead of yin/yang.

The first night of Sophie's sickness I made mashed potatoes. I thought they would be good for her to swallow since her throat was so sore. My mashed potatoes pretty much could rule the world. They are that good.

Has anyone ever told you not to put potato peelings through the garbage disposal?

I've been told that.

But I tend to spin things to my whim at any given moment. So when I had all these potato peelings to clean up that night, I DISTINCTLY remember some anonymous person (wink) telling me that it was okay to put them in the garbage disposal if you had used a POTATO PEELER. It is, however, not okay to put them in the disposal if you have peeled them by hand with a knife........ (?) The peels are thicker, that's why. Geez.

That, apparently, is not the case.

The small, starchy pieces of potato peel tend to congeal easily. And swell. And clog a sink so thoroughly that even though you have a household that is harboring "the sickness" (otherwise known as "the plague") there is nothing at all you can do.

You cannot wash dishes in the sink. I have a dishwasher, but I like washing them in the sink. Don't even ask.

You cannot throw away the amazing amounts of food you have prepared with love- to only have snubbed by your seven year old - except in the real garbage that will smell yucky inside the house or lure the evil possums outside the house.

Cleanliness happens to start at a clean kitchen sink. And my house was spiraling downhill rapidly towards..... oh.... "garbage dump" status.

I decided that since I am obviously a strong and capable woman (see example by clicking here) I would be able to tackle this tough clog on my own.

Drano was used in abundance.

Nothing happened.

Then things got interesting. I took apart some of the plumbing from underneath the sink. There was no apparent clog to be found. Finally, with the snake-thingy (I have one!) I was able to detect a serious cement-like clog in the pipe. The problem was, this particular pipe was all the way back in the wall.

The snake would not budge it. I tried and tried and tried. The beautiful part of this whole scenario is that I was not able to concentrate my efforts on the sink. It was the sink. Then it was Sophie puking. Then it was the sink. More puke. Crying. Puking. Sink..... And the crying wasn't always Sophie. And all the handwashing in between. At some point, is it even really worth it? I mean really.

The clog remained.

I had a thought that now that I knew where it was and what it was composed of, I COULD kill it with Drano.

If only I had enough Drano.

Do I take my puking kid to the store? No.

Do I ask someone to come over to watch her while I go to the store? No.

Do any of you know what kind of horror there is in being trapped with a clogged sink a puking child and no possibility of parole?

The damn sink waited like that for two days. Finally I was able to get to the store when their Dad just happened to "drop by". He never would have done even that much if he would have known that she was sick.

Eventually I was able to pour enough Drano down to loosen the congealed, swollen potato peel mess. The pipes will probably disinegrate at any moment from the chemical corrosion.....

But I was eventually able to clean my sink, which lead to cleaning my kitchen, which lead to spring cleaning the whole house (washing all bedding and blankets and drying them outside in the sun, shampooing the carpets, washing walls, cleaning under the couch cushions....and oh hell why not, under the couch!) And then mowing the yard, and weedeating, and making great borders, and planting seeds.

So, that is the story of the evil kitchen sink clog from hell and what it can do to one's fragile psyche.

The next story has to do with medicinal shots in the ass - and a doctor with the last name Sidensticker.......