What does sodium hydroxide, a chain breaker, a plunger and a drain snake all have in common? Yup, you guessed it, they all have The Intern in common. Needless to say, WE had his work cut out for him this last week.
It all began last weekend when WE ordered new parts for the KTM. He had them shipped and reminded me to bring the box home once it arrived. It arrived. I forgot and left it on my desk. I arrived home, instantly remembered what I forgot and apologized. WE was cool.
‘No, worries, just remember tomorrow. I need to get my bike put back together before our ride on Friday.”
Sure enough, Thursday, I remembered to bring home the box. Straight to the shop WE went. He was there only a few minutes when he came back up and announced the chain was the wrong size. Now, me…thinking: no problem. I piped up and asked if he could just take his Honda instead of the KTM. (I am always full of amazing suggestions at just the right moment.)
“Uh, no. It’s all taken apart too,” he said. To give him credit, he stays absolutely calm and collected when he’s flustered. But, when he reaches that moment of I may not be able to ride tomorrow, the fluster begins.
“I need to run to town,” he said. “Unless you know someone with a chain breaker?”
“A chain breaker? What does that do?” I asked, then instantly regretted the question. It’s called a chain breaker. Obviously it’s some type of tool to measure oil pressure. *Rolls eyes at self.*
WE hops in the truck and I follow. I am texting everyone I can think of who may have a chain breaker while he is having Siri call every store within a 45-mile radius.
“Nope, sorry. We don’t have any of those.”
“No, we don’t carry that item.”
“Yup, we have those and we are open for another hour.”
We drove to another town to get the chin breaker. By now, I was hungry and asked WE, “How long will it take you to put your bike back together once we get home?”
“I don’t know, maybe fifteen minutes,” he replied.
“So, do you want me to call in a pizza to the downtown location or the Southside location?” I didn’t ask if her was hungry. *Sneaky*
WE looked over at me, I think with a little frustration. Here I had forgotten his package, which put him in a bind to get his bike back together and now all I could think about was pizza?
Thankfully, pizza: pepperoni and pinapple to be exact, is WE’s favorite food.
“Downtown,” he said.
We went through the drive thru, got the pizza and headed home. It did take him a few more minutes than he thought to put his bike back together, but he was up and ready to go at 4:40 Friday morning. Plus, he had pizza to take for his lunch. Now that’s a win-win.
The Friday ride went well. It was one of his Girlfriends’ birthdays so they went out to Lydia Camp area and there’s a few stories I am sure WE will be posting later on. So…this brings us to Saturday…
We had completed our shopping for the week and I was cleaning out the fridge to make room for the produce. I decided to dump an entire bag of wonderfully rotten smelling spinach down the garbage disposal rather than add another thing to the rubbish. You see, the bag was near full and I didn’t want to walk the nine extra steps to get a new bag. *Face palm* That, and I didn’t want the spinach stinking up the rubbish outside. Oh, who am I kidding? It was the nine extra steps.
I was almost to the end of the very large pile of spinach when the garbage disposal puked up a huge burp of green sludge. I looked under the sink to to find the pipe was leaking green water. When I stood up, I looked into the sink again and it resembled a tiny green lake. Nothing was draining. *CRAP*
“Uh-honey,” I gently called.
By gently, I mean the angelic voice I use when I know darned well I have done something I cannot even fathom fixing on my own.
“Wha…what did you do?”
“Um, it’s spinach. I thought it would just.” I stopped talking. Really, there was no way I was going to explain myself out of this one. I had a feeling what I had done was bad, but I really had no idea just how bad…
WE took the pipe apart and drained the water into the crock pot. My choice of containers, of course. Man, I wish I had one if those orange Tupperware bowls my mom has. Those worked so well, for so many things. I have a feeling it would have been perfect for this project as well. Anyway, he drained the pipe, didn’t see anything, reassembled and ran more water.
“I have to run to town for a drain snake.”
He left. He wasn’t mad, but I could really tell he would have rather been mowing the lawn or sticking needles in to the bottom of his feet than working on the green pond in our sink.
Forty-five minutes later, he returned with a drain snake and a plunger. Yes, we have lived in our house for nearly ten years without a toilet plunger. (Yay, right? I think that’s an accomplishment, but I am not sure why I feel that way…)
So, he crawled under the towel-lined sink, took apart the pipe again and started to snake the drain. One clog. Two clogs. Three clogs. Four. It all started to feel like a Sesame Street episode with the Count. At this point, I could tell he was getting a little irritated, so I moved to the dining room table and start writing notes for the blog you are reading now.
“Okay,” I hear him say, “That should do it.”
WE assembled the drain, turned on the water and @$#%&. Not unplugged. In fact, it seemed to be worse than it was before.
Remove drain pipe
Run Drain Snake
Assemble drain pipe
Take out some frustrations
“April.” Yes, he called me by my given name. Not the intern or safety sally, or honey…no, he was beyond that.
“If I have to rip out pipes…”
“Wait,” I said in a desperate attempt to sidetrack his frustration. My idea was to run back into town and pick up some drain clog remover. WE agreed. He would rather do that, than cut into the PVC pipe.
Another forty-five minute round trip.
Drain cleaner dumped into drain
Timer set for thirty minutes
(Okay that wasn’t true. WE was actually searching online for a vinyl cutter during this process. He is ready to get some swag into your hands.)
After the timer went off, the sink drained and WE lived happily ever after.
The sink was still clogged and the irritability level was rising. Armed with the garden hose, saw, rubber boots, five-gallon bucket and some naughty words WE cut into the pipe.
WAIT!!! I ran down the stairs just in time to see the liquid drain cleaner streaming from the cut pipe.
“RINSE YOUR HANDS!” I yelled. It was more of a panic-scream than an actual yell.
WE took the hose and rinsed his hands.
“Do they itch? You could have a chemical burn. If they itch, the internet said to flush the area for about thirty minutes and then to seek medical attention.”
The look he gave me was one of utter humor. Here I was, ready to load him up in the truck and wait in the ER while the original issue, which was created by me, would be waiting at home.
“It’s not itching,” he assured me in a non-reassuring tone.
One cut turned into two cuts in the pipe. He did eventually located the clog and after ANOTHER trip to town to get a PVC connector, the drain was fixed and water was flowing freely. This adventure began at 14:00 hours and ended at 21:20 hours. It also put over one hundred miles on his truck.
Moral of the story:
WE now has a chain cutter, a plunger, a drain snake and I have a new appreciation for his patience.
Oh, and next turn, I will just throw the spinach away.