This morning I’ve blown my bathroom sink apart.
It is quite a surprise.
Here’s how it goes.
I have an art deco type, fluted glass sink. It sits on top of the tiled bathroom counter and is pleasing to look at. It is moulded to look like a huge, luminous blue flower rising open-mouthed toward the indifferent burnished copper faucet above it.
The sink was very expensive. It makes a statement. It makes the bathroom. It’s a beautiful and wondrous and overpriced extravagance but everybody needs at least one outrageous, nonsensical, illogical extravagance don’t you think?
I have to stand on my toes to use this sink and even then I often clank my elbows on its undulating glass edges.
Its lithe inner neck is attached to a pipe and hidden under the countertop but like an unrelenting sinus condition the pipe is always clogged.
The sink is a gorgeous delicate Being, but I don’t like it. It is uncomfortable to use and it barely drains. Nothing I’ve used clears the blockages and I’ve even used human plumbers.
This morning I have had enough of the sink’s peculiarities and quirks. I have in hand a very large jug of poison gel that is guaranteed to scrub clean the most recalcitrant pipes.
The instructions say to pour the burning goo down the drain and let it sit for one half hour. Then I am instructed to run hot water down the pipe.
This is a problem.
I can never get the water to run long enough to get it hot enough because the water won’t drain from the beautiful sink. The water fills to the brim and then sits sullenly, threatening to rush over the lips of the blue beauty.
But…suddenly, I have an excellent and even brilliant idea. I will heat the water on the kitchen stove and pour that down the drain.
Just a Marvel I am. An Inventive Thinker. So clever. Smarter then the average plumber who seems not to have thought of this.
I put the red tea kettle on the stove and whistle while I wait. When the kettle begins to whistle with me, I snatch it off the burner and rush with it to the bathroom.
“Here you go!” I shout as I pour the kettled hot water into the Amazing Blue Bowl.
Kabaam! Krack! Slap and Smack!
As I’m pouring in the water, the glass bowel snaps urgently and breaks itself into pieces!
The bowl collapses and poison water gushes and runs across the counter and as I soon find, it rushes into the cupboards and drawers below like an urgent, dirty swollen river into a canyon.
Oh my god.
I’m in shock. I have just blown my $3,000.00 bathroom sink apart.
I call my brother-in-law Smiley, The Gold Plated Plumber.
He comes over to assess the situation.
“Umm,” he says. “You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt really badly.”
I ask if he can unclog the drain.
No. He can’t. He won’t. He only deals with the Very High End of Plumbing. He does not unclog greasy hair-stuffed drains.
He is however, willing to put a new sink on top of the counter…when I find one.
I call a more earthy plumber about the drain.
Duane comes to my house and I tell him about my broken glass sink, now lying mixed in an outside trash can with dead bugs and garden refuge.
We both stare at the bathroom counter. All that remains is a small hole attached to a pipe below.
“Can you clean the drain?” I ask. “That’s what I have been trying to do for months now. I can’t put another sink here until the drain is clear.”
Duane is obliging. He gets under the counter and unscrews the loop in the plumbing.
A rush of bleach smelling water spits itself out into a bowl he’s holding. Duane dumps the water in the toilet.
“What do you think?” I ask. “Can you clear it?”
Duane looks at me and says, “It’s clear. There’s no clog here.”
I’m stunned. “Oh no,” I say, “You mean I ruined the sink but I unclogged the drain?“
Apparently that is so.
I reflect for a few minutes.
I didn’t like the sink. It was lovely but impossible to use. It cracked my elbows. I had to stand on tip toes to use it. It was constantly clogged up and dirty because of the stoppage.
Now, in one whack I have solved all my sink problems. I have gotten rid of the sink and I have cleared the drain!
It’s a great day after all.
As Scarlett O’Hara, from Gone with the Wind, might say, “I will think about replacing my sink tomorrow.”
And so, you see my friends…a shocking event in your life that may appear to be a tragedy or at least a nuisance…may actually be a fortuitous event.
Oddly enough, sometimes we all have to suffer a bit or maybe even a lot…to get the crap out of our lives.
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*Comments: Each month I choose a comment I like and the WINNER gets a FREE ten minute PHONE READING with me. The winner is announced here with the first blog of every month. Thank you!
January’s Winner is: Kathy Noll. “You are a hoot and a half! I saw a sign once in a bathroom that said, ‘If you tinkle please don’t sprinkle.’ lol.” From the blog ‘Felt Like Pooping Lately?”
And a comment I enjoyed is from the same blog; Gryneous Kentauros: “Your book (The Herb Ladies Notebook) causes bowel movements” (when reading it.) ! A cheap laxative I would think folks. Check it out at http://www.amazon.com