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Plan B

May 2, 2013

If you’ll recall last week I was stopped up. Uh...I mean my plumbing...you know, under my house! Anyway, I tried to snake the pipe myself, but it didn’t work so I had to switch to Plan B. Plan B started with a cry for help on FB as to where I could procure a 100’ plumbing snake, obviously longer than mine. A FB friend was kind enough to tell me about a rent-all place on Springs Road. Calling, they assured me they had the equipment to help. Wowzer, I could hear my washer draining as I hung up. Well, sorta...

I rented a 75’ snake, although, the very nice gentleman at the rental store thought the 50’ would work. I tried to explain how huge my house is (meaning long), but he was more concerned with the flexibility of the shorter snake. (This concept would sink in later.) And as fate would have it, my buddy Rik was coming to till my garden so I figured we could take a short break and snake my pipes. He didn’t mind, so after getting the machine out of my car, Rik unscrewed the lid to the clean out and started the snake down the PVC pipe toward the clog.

Talk about two people who had no idea what they were doing. I mean, I knew in theory. But theory doesn’t work when you’re trying to shove one end of a temperamental half inch thick metal wire, with the other end wrapped inside a spinning caged drum, into a four inch piece of plastic pipe to seek out and eliminate a stubborn clog. We finally figured out there was too much wire loose because it kept twisting and beating the dickens out of Rik’s fingers. You see, I was in charge of the foot pedal; the ‘on’ and ‘off’ button, if you will. The slightest pressure twirls the cage and the snake whips and spins until you take your foot off the button. In other words, as he fought the snake, I just whirled and twirled and daydreamed about Dwayne Johnson snaking my pipes...er, I mean...well, never mind. Where was I? Oh yeah...

Well, dickens, after what seemed like forever, we actually got it feeding down the pipe. But that dang snake was ornery as the dickens and kept hitting a T joint or something and would just stop. One brilliant idea later, we were pulling the snake out and heading into the house to use the washing machine drain pipe. Wowzer, I just knew that would work and was deciding on whether to wash whites or colors first! Instead, the laundramat’s triple loader loomed in my future as the snake wire was too stiff to make the bend in the P-trap. (Which is what the guy at the rental store meant by flexible; but hey, I didn’t know we were going to attack from that end.)

So back outside we went determined not to be defeated. And staring into the gaping hole of the clean out we clearly saw mucky water trickling past. Of course, Rik was convinced it was...well...you know. But that didn’t make sense to me because the pipes carry everything out. Everything! And even though I have two renters living at my house, the bathrooms weren’t affected so I was convinced it was muddy water seeping through the yucky washing machine clog; dirty and disgusting, yes; but poopy? No.

An hour later, frustrated, exhausted and no further to unclogging the pipe we finally threw in the proverbial towel. Shoot fire, you’ll never believe what happened next. As we slowly rewound the snake into the cage we were just about finished when the last six feet came whipping out like the flailing arms on Robot. “Danger, Will Robinson!” I felt like shouting as I jumped out of the way of the spewing snake. Flopping back and forth, Rik wasn’t so lucky as he moaned, “I knew THAT was going to happen!”

Looking at him I saw he had three dark ooze spots on his face. His arms, shirt and pants bore markings from where the snake had rubbed black ooze (affectionately) all over him. Awwww... But the look on his face was priceless. I laughed hysterically, then took my sleeve and wiped off his forehead. Dickens, it was the least I could do. He did try to help.

By Thursday I was dropping quarters into the laundromat’s triple loader at seven in the morning and decided there comes a time when I have to stop trying to fix everything myself and call a professional. So I called Charlie, the plumber, and he brought his electric, hand-held, 60’ snake. Wowzer, I drooled. What can I say, I love power tools! Anyway, it took a while but he finally cleared my pipes. Dickens, I can finally say I’m clog free. Sorta makes me feel all warm and oozy!

Can you imagine…hollering “Danger, Will Robinson!”

Smile, every day is beautiful!

CanYouImagine@charter.net | www.Bobbi-G.com |www.Facebook.com/BobbiGSpeaks

 

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