the gate
The baby’s tee ball practice was called today since it was all rainy and muddy. I was only slightly annoyed that I woke up at 7:30 for nothing because I drank about 3 gallons of coffee. Taking advantage of my vibrating state, I started cleaning the kitchen and the bathrooms. Inspired (!), the husband started cleaning, as well.
Since we’re so busy during the school year and since we’re also just generally lazy, cleaning isn’t really a priority around here, so things were a little dodgy to say the least.
I was motivated enough to address the clogged drain in the upstairs bathroom sink. I had been merciless with Drano in recent weeks, muttering a quick apology to the environment before pouring bottles and bottles of the pale yellow sludge down the drain. But after a few hours of mild improvement, the drain would revert to its slow-running state, making the bowl of the sink a constant, pasty reminder of all of the times that we brushed our teeth.
I tried some green, hippie trick for clogs that involve pouring 1/2 cup of salt down the drain and rinsing it with boiling water. That didn’t help, either. So I found a dusty old rubber glove and started tugging at the drain plug. When I finally got it loose, I found myself gawking in horror at the substance that coated the stem of the plug. It was dark grey, and slimy, and decorated with a few hairs of various lengths. I felt myself beginning to panic, so I grabbed a paper towel and just started wiping the badness into the garbage can. I then mustered up the courage to shine a flashlight into the drain.
I feel it is my duty to inform you that the gate to hell is located in my drain.
I did some more of the salt and boiling water and moved on with my life, satisfied but very, very queasy.
I watered our pathetic little Madagascar dragon plant and decided to put it on the front porch to give it some fresh air and sun. It was only when I opened the front door did I remember that I was wearing only underpants and a Barry White tshirt.
I can’t imagine why our neighbors don’t talk to me.
May 10th, 2008 at 12:52 pm
god i hate it when i notice a portal to hell in my living space.
May 10th, 2008 at 2:02 pm
God bless you, K, I love that I’m not the only person who cleans with as little clothing on as possible.