Today, however, seems to have given me, at least, a relief from the ongoing monstrosity inside my aching head, and I feel, for the moment, worlds better.
The sink is still completely blocked. Something malevolent (and quite greasy) has taken up residence in the deep, deepest depths of our kitchen plumbing, and no amount of effort, be it manual or chemical, will work to unstop it.
It also smells.
And resembles the poo of a sickly baby.
Did I mention it smells?
|Horrifying goo, that is probably living inside my pipes right this very moment. And smells.|
Because Mr. Sugar Mattress didn't arrive home from work until after 4 in the morning, the problem was left unattended both last night, and again this morning, while he slept late, and then got up to leave for work again. Try as I might, I'm simply not adept at being a drain-unstopper-er. Things I am quite good at, tho, include dragging out the entire contents of our under-sink cabinets, making a mucky mess under the kitchen sink, and generally stinking heavily of the greasy mystery clog (since I'm also inept at plunging a blocked sink, and tend to splash loads of grossness everywhere when I try.)
There is something quaint and sort of cornily fulfilling about doing one's kitchen chores the "old fashioned" way. Tub of hot, soapy water for washing, and a tub of cool water, for rinsing. Cups clinking delicately beneath the foam, waiting to be made new again with some good, old fashioned elbow grease. Lost in thought.
We are so far removed from what once were the most time consuming tasks. And it leads, often, to being removed from ourselves, as well. Nothing takes any time, any more. We load up the dishes, we push the button, and they get washed inside the magic dish-washing box, while we move on to the next room, to stick our faces into whatever digital gadget distracts our attention sufficiently. Our own thoughts pushed out of the way, while technology fills us with mindless entertainment.
But today, as the result of our unfortunate plumbing situation, and the growing number of filthy dishes on our counter, I was forced to step away from distractions, roll up my sleeves, and wash everything by hand. Even down to dumping buckets of gray water and food off the front porch. Aside from the blogging, and the fact that I'm still in my pajamas, I feel like a good-quality June Clever knockoff today. Kitchen all sparkly, and a brain full of fresh thoughts, that are normally dulled out by the 21st century.
So, thanks, greasy mystery muck. I did go away with something after all.
So, you can leave, just any time now. Seriously, you smell.