About rugrats, minivans, The South, photography, farmer's markets, puberty, Army, snotty noses, blankies, movies, hugs, autism, make believe, homeschooling, sibling rivalry, car seats, weather, in-laws, scribbles, marriage, and somewhere in there, a stoned British reporter.

Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Divine humor

Do you ever have one of those days that you think God is sitting up there watching us with a big bowl of popcorn? *zap* "Hmm, let's see what they do NOW?"

Today was one of those days. My hellions children have been fascinated with pulling out the plug thingy in the bathroom sink. You know, the thing that keeps big things from going down, and when you pull up on that other thing, plugs the sink? (I'm sure my vast knowledge in plumbing technology is astounding you.) Well, ours came unattached somewhere in the pipe and you can pull it all the way out. My kids think this is the best thing ever.

Normally it doesn't bother me too much, I've just made it a habit to put it back every time I walk into that room. Tonight though, that one little piece of plumbing equipment proved its necessity.

*A quick tidbit that does have bearing on the story-My new toothpaste has a freakishly big cap, I guess it's supposed to be easier to open or something, which it is. And coincidentally, it's the same diameter as the pipes in a common household sink. Now back to our regularly scheduled programming.*

So I walked into the bathroom, and noticed that the plug thingy was out *again*. I went to put it back *again*, and that's when I noticed that the sink was stopped up. This didn't come as too much surprise, because Lindsay has had some sort of fascination lately with shoving an entire napkin down the drain. So I reached in to retrive what I thought was a wadded up kitty napkin. I was wrong. So. Wrong.

Some sort of plastic was down there. After feeling it for a second or two, while looking around the bathroom, it dawned on me. A look of horror crossed my face as I stared at my capless toothpaste tube. How do I get it out of the pipe? Am I going to have to take the freaking sink apart? Why do kids do these things? Where is Ryan going to brush his teeth in the morning before school? And most importantly, how am I going to keep my toothpaste from drying out?

My first idea, I kid you not, was to stick the handle of a razor down there. The razor was sitting there, and I had this idea that I could use it to catch onto the tiny lip that is around the edge of cap. As you might have guessed, that moment of brilliance was um, less than brilliant. So then I get a bucket and get under the sink and unscrew this one pipe. (also known as "the black one". I'm all about technical terms you know.) I knew if I could just stick something up there I could dislodge it. The problem-the U shaped part of the black pipe. I needed something long and hard, yet flexible. A search of the house proved fruitless.

So I screw the pipe back on and then go get a knife. I'm not sure exactly what I was planning on doing, but at least it would be handy to put myself out of my misery. I stick it down in there and figure out I can slip it down around the edges of the cap. And you know what that meant? You're right! Absolutely nothing!!! I then somehow figure out I can use the point of the knife to catch the lip of the cap and raise it about an inch before it fell back down. For a brief moment in time, I am ecstatic. I spend the next 10 years minutes slowly trying it over and over again. Catch the cap, raise it slowly and hopefully, and have it fall back again.

Finally I realize it is futile, and in frustration I stab into the drain with the knife repeatedly, and then put my head in my hands. (I am a model for mature reactions to frustration.) I sigh deeply, and then reach in for the knife, knowing I can't just leave it in there where the kids can get it. I lift it out of the drain. . .with the toothpaste cap firmly attached.


Michelle said...

Problem solved!!!! :) Thanks for the giggle.

Lacey said...

OMG! You really should be a comedy writer, you definitely have the knack (and subject matter:-).