Today was a busy day. Lots of chores around the house and yard. And then in the afternoon Camera Girl broke the news that the kitchen sink drain was completely clogged. So, out come the monkey wrenches and plungers and the fun begins. The trap was clear so I went looking for the snake to send down the drain line. But it was gone. There is no more annoying experience for a man than to have one of his tools turn up missing when he needs it. But who could I blame? I wanted to blame Camera Girl. After all she is my go-to. But unfortunately, I knew in my heart it must have been me. I was trying to remember when I had thrown out any boxes without looking at them during the move ten years ago. I vaguely remember thinking that whatever was in a certain beat-up box was useless old hardware that I no longer needed. I think I told myself it was some scrap from a project. Some conduit that I didn’t want to part with at the time but had never found a use for. Looking back, it was just part of the dumpster mania that happens when you’ve been in a house for twenty-five years and then you have to empty it. At a certain point you’re tempted to throw anything out, even the dogs, just to end the packing.
So, I took a piece of coaxial cable that was lying around and tried to snake the line with that. No luck. Then I reassembled the drain line and dutifully plunged it for almost half an hour with no result. Tomorrow I’ll go out and buy an auger and clear the line. I’d do it today but the roads are clogged with people going to the various Labor Day fairs and carnivals that break out at this time of year. We’ll go early and pick it up and then head out to an orchard for some photography. Then we’ll return by a roundabout route and I’ll spend an hour or so removing glop from that sink drain line.
I think I’ll blame Joe Biden for the clogged line. The crud in that pipe is somewhat reminiscent of the gunk that must exist between his ears. There must be a sympathetic magic that exists between the crap he was spewing the other day and all the noisome disgusting bilge that infects the waste lines of the world. Joe himself is like a waste clog that has fouled up this country. All the normal processes that need to happen to keep our country functioning have been obstructed by the presence of this human hairball. He’s gummed up the works and America is stuck with a mess and no easy way to clean it up. Well, I’ve stretched that metaphor way past its limit. And it’s a mixed metaphor. Joe is more akin to a backed-up toilet than sink because he’s really a lying sack of crap. But I’ll move on.
It’s sixty some-odd days until the election. I think we’ll learn very important things afterward. And at this point I’m not even nervous. I’m prepared to accept either eventuality. If we win, great. If we lose, I’ll move on. If we lose that means I am responsible for steering my life in a permanently hostile political environment. No more pretending we can vote our way out of this. I can assume that the US federal government will always be trying to deprive me of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. And I will be avidly weighing my options in finding the optimal way to avoid its efforts.
Even though the dish washer is unusable Camera Girl decided to use some real china and silverware to have a nice dinner. It was ribeye steaks with big baked potatoes smothered in butter. It adds to the mess in the kitchen but her instincts were correct. That dinner, followed by a showing of John Huston’s “African Queen,” was a good remedy to a frustrating afternoon of plumbing failures. And tomorrow I’ll gather my supplies and set things straight in Camera Girl’s kitchen and all will be right with the world again. If only Joe Biden could be as easily flushed down the drain. But he’s a much bigger hairball.
