A Snake & My Pipes
I've been plagued with a slow kitchen sink for months. I have had enough. Time for action.
I get excellent customer service in hardware stores because the best way to describe my attire is "slightly slutty." I handle all the nuts and the guys go wild. I have persuaded many of them to come home with me and "fix" stuff.
The new guy at the hardware store passed off the man in coveralls to another employee to help me. "I'm a plumber. It's what I do," he explained to his jealous associate. This is my new favorite line. Since I don't actually do anything, I have substituted "plumber" with all kinds of other professions. I love the way it sounds. Brain Surgeon, Broker, Golddigger. No matter what, it just works.
I giggled a thank you and said something about laying pipe, thus securing good customer service.
I explained the situation. I told him that it turns out that I don't actually have a garbage disposal. I toss everything in the sink and flip the light on and off. I have done this for years. I have poured every caustic chemical down the drain with no success. I have even used Professional products. I needed a snake.
He demonstrated how to use the snake. "Oh," I said. "I'm sure I can handle that." I think I even said, "tee hee."
I got home and ran 15 feet of coil down my drain. It promptly snapped off. It is still there. My sink vomited up a murky grey liquid with flecks of green and black in it. The kitchen suddenly smelled of cheese. Clearly, I have to move.
Tomorrow, I will wear a tiny skirt and return the part of the snake that is not stuck in my drain. I will demand a full refund. I will also slip the plumber my phone number.
I'm a tramp. It's what I do.
PS: Tomorrow, FairMaiden has graciously granted me the opportunity to speak about the A$$hole of the Week. Please stop by and check her blog out.