About two weeks ago, our kitchen sink backed up and wouldn't drain, no matter how many times I ran the disposal. I plunged it, which seemed to do the trick. A few days later, I walked into our downstairs bathroom and discovered that plunging had only opened the drain by putting it all in our downstairs bathtub, food particles and all. Which? Absolutely gross. And? It's a Saturday night.
We call our property management company, may they rot in hell, and they told us it wasn't an emergency and we'd have to wait until Monday. I'm sorry, but my kitchen sink backing up into my bathtub is something more than a drip. It bespeaks problems in the main line and than, my friends, is not something you fuck with.
So after my obligatory meltdown (I have the emotional resiliency of tissue paper right about now), I called our landlords, who are also our friends. They agreed that this was a relative emergency and authorized me to go ahead and call their plumber. Their plumber advertises a same-day guarantee and has Sunday hours, but when I finally got through to them first thing in the morning, all of their "priority" slots--i.e., their same-day guaranteed slots--were full. Another small meltdown, and I called a different plumber. Voila! They come at all hours of the day and night.
So the nice plumber came and dredged our pipes and even cleaned out our food-encrusted bathtub and all was right with the world. Our landlords even gave us their credit-card number so we didn't have to front the money. I heart our landlords.
Tonight, I was cleaning up after dinner. I left the water running while I rinsed dishes, and guess what? The sink backed up. I flipped the disposal and it all went away, but I heard that telltale gurgling sound and sure enough, it was all in my bathtub again.
This is why it's nearly 11pm and I'm tracking election returns. The plumber is in my kitchen snaking the line, having given me a cryptic warning to stop using my disposal the way I'm using it (egg shells? bits of cut up veggies?) My wife, who had a kind of emotional face-plant early in the evening, went to bed at something like 7:30. The dogs are worried that someone is in the house with me and who exactly do I think protects me? I'm crying over Virginia and Wisconsin (Wisconsin! how could you hurt me so?) and crossing my fingers that my state goes solidly Democrat and I don't once again arrive in a blue state to find it turning red beneath my feet.
A colleague of mine actually asked me who I was voting for. I replied that I was voting for the party that gave me the ghost of a trace of a chance that my marriage might be recognized.
Here's hoping this election, however it turns out, forces some changes, however, small and political.
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