Liquid Plumber Made Me Do It

Potential Wise Saying for Today: "An honest confession is good for the soul, but bad for the reputation." Thomas Dewar

I lied today.

OK. I not only lied, but I lied fully conscious that I was lying and as the words came out of my mouth I was stunned at how happily they tripped over the tongue with the full awarenessthat there was no way I could substantiate the damnable phrases.

It started with Baking Soda.

My husband was gone and my sink was smelly. Fixing said smelly sink, technically, falls under "domestic goddess duties," a.k.a. me, although I would valiantly debate that a smelly sink isn't really how a sink should be, ergo the sink is not working properly, thus rendering the same sink broken. Fixing broken household objects falls squarely under Knight in Shining Armor status therefore the weight of odor-removal would rest upon Kevin the Video Husband's shoulders.

It probably would have been better if that argument (oops! discussion) would have taken place, because then at least I wouldn't have lied.

Instead, I stuffed the sink full of baking soda. The bicarbonate molecules became so pressed together that they formed a solid, airtight mass down the length of the 12-inch pipe (this happens to be the measurement of the pipe's length. Bugger the diameter...typical sink drain diameter, it was, I'm sure).

Pouring vinegar onto the top of the wad provided much satisfying bubbling, but not the expected loss of liquid down the previously trustworthy hole. Hot water didn't do anything but add more fluid. Stabbing the soda-mass with a bamboo skewer did absolutely nothing.

A plunger! Plungers always make things move! Fortunately, I recently had extensive (read: nasty) experience with one of these little beauties while on a retreat several weeks prior. Our plunger--a nice, new light gray and white model at that--was located deep in the bowls of the house behind the basement john. Before it could be used to its full potential, it first had to be used to kill the largest spider I had ever seen. This thing was size of my thumb! Ugh. Thank goodness for my Plunger of Death! Unfortunately the typical plunging action didn't do the job this time...I had to...never mind...You had no idea how versitile this little tool is, did you!

Well, desperation is the mother of invention...or something like that.

Plunging the sink ultimately became a three-stooge experience embodied in one little me. My left hand was Moe working that thing to get the best suction possible. The other hand was Curly trying to keep the stopper in the neighboring sink from being blown through the roof while providing a seal to help force the water through the bicarbonate blockage. And my face was Larry--while the other two heaved and pushed, jets of soda water shot from the overflow tube in a hidden knob of the sink and squirted me in the forehead. Whoop-whoop-whoop! Nyuk! Nyuk!

I finally used an open wire coat hanger as a "snake" to drill through the mass. By this time I've spent an hour and I'm no closer to draining this water than the U.S. is to establishing a solid Western Democracy in a 3,000-year-old nomadic tribal dictatorship. But that didn't stop either of us from trying.

Suddenly I realized what was needed: Liquid Plumber. The ads flashed through my mind with amazing clarity: an old kitchen/bathroom sink pipe is full of thick, nasty hair and sludge...Here comes Liquid Plumber! and Swoosh the clog is swept away! Hooray! (The question of how the camera could see through a solid brass plumbing fixture never entered my mind.)

So off to the bedroom to change clothes! I had a quest and I must see it to the end! The Evil Baking Soda Cork Monster must vanquished! I can do it! I will drive to the store and get the Proper Tool! A quick brush of the hair, just so! A little lotion on the face, just so! Purse! Keys! Other Wal-mart List! A Travel Mug of Tea!

And...

Passing the sink revealed a new horror...the water was gone! Well, at least one side was empty. But, look! The stopper is still in the liquid-filled side. Carefully, take out the plug...Swoosh! Down goes the water. Problem solved.

Or is it?

Wal-mart awaited and I was quest-ready.

So I quested. At Wal-mart. Not for Liquid Plumber...I never even looked for it. But lots of other neat things needed found, including SpongeBob Squarepants' "Halloween" DVD with 5 Spooky Sea Tales PLUS 5 Bubblin' Bonus Episodes!

On the way home, Kevin the Video Husband called to say he and Meghan the Wonder(ful)Kid made it to San Antonio along with the rest of their Film Festival Traveling Team.

"Where are you?" Kevin asked. "It sounds like you're in the car."

"Ha, Ha," I said. "I had to go to Wal-mart ("had" is kind of a strong word, actually). The sink was plugged (true, but it fixed itself). I needed some Liquid Plumber (true, I did need it but not anymore)."

"Will Liquid Plumber hurt those new kind of pipes?"

"Don't worry," I respond. "It'll be fine (true). I clogged the sink with Baking Soda (true). By the time I get home, it'll probably fix itself (yeah, like I was STILL home when it...you know)...that's just my luck. HA. HA. HA."

In the meantime my brain is screaming things like "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING! There's NOTHING wrong with your sink! Why are you saying this stuff? You didn't even BUY ANY LIQUID PLUMBER YOU MORON! NOW WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO!!!"

My mouth continues to say, "Ha, Ha. I got everything I need. Have a good time darlin' and don't worry about the sink...I'm sure it'll be fine."

So there. I've now confessed my indiscretion to you. It was an out-and-out untruth. If I was Catholic I could do a few "Hail Mary's" and feel better about the whole thing.

But I'm not. So, instead, I have to find a way to tell my husband I did a bold-faced for no reason except that my lips apparently went completely insane.

Do you think he'll buy it?