Ethics in the time of clogged pipes

Yesterday was one of those days. Breezing through the morning, thinking everything is light and easy. Steve is working away for few weeks now and unlike any other given morning before, this one was just going smooth. Of course, the second you think that the universe laughs with you, you regret the thought that left your head a minute ago. Because at the end of that day you find yourself unclogging the kitchen sink.

The emergency plumber on duty was Google. I learned there were many ways to unclog the drains without tools and chemicals. For example, one can throw in salt, soda bicarbonate, vinegar and then generously drown it in boiling water. In my case that boiling hot water ended up on the floor and under the washing machine. Mental note for the future; check if the rubber under the sink is properly tightened. Seeing that I decided I had had enough for the night. I made my peace and went to bed, the universe still chuckling away in the background. The thought of binge watching Suits and dashing Harvey Spectar (Steve is now Googling to take a look at the dashing) at that point was much more appealing than a sink full of dirty water stinking of vinegar. I hate the smell of vinegar, even in salads I swap it for lemon juice… I was probably only minutes away from going completely insane and squeezing lemon juice into that soda bicarbonate.

Half an hour into one of the sixth season episodes, waiting for Mike Ross to get out of prison I could not take my mind off the sink. I got up, peeked into Alex’s room. His lights were on, instead of finishing his homework he was sat on his bed reading Pratchet. His laptop was in the same state as my sink, only without vinegar.

My teen followed me down the stairs, not really sure why I had dragged him out of bed at 11 pm. I guess he could not understand I needed someone to call 999 should any wild ideas get into my head. Perhaps to save me from being broken or even dead under that sink. To cut a long story short, the whole diagnostics process consisted of a long cable pushed down the drain. I was hoping it would stop at some point once it reached the clog. But it didn’t. The problem definitely was not the kitchen sink but the outside drain pipe. It was dark…and windy… and wet. We executed ourwell planned operation. Alex would take the rubber gloves and bin bag and try to unclog the drain manually from the outside. Yes, I admit it, I made the plan. I didn’t feel like digging the drain, in the dark the wind and the rain. The benefits of parenting. I also persuaded him that he is the man for the job and nobody on Earth could do it better than him. He was so proud. I must say I did not feel well a few moments on when I saw him wearing my favourite oversized grey cardigan that Victoria Secret discontinued years ago. He is digging, and the sleeves are flopping around, my heart skips a beat. My only thought was why in heaven’s name I haven’t left the sink swamp until the morning. He is probably wondering if his mother loves him at all, making him do this at 11 pm in a storm. In my defence I was holding the torch for him.

Water gargling was music to our ears when finally, the clog gave in. Teen did a happy dance in his pyjamas, yellow rubber gloves and MY cardigan. He has definitely watched too many episodes of Friends. Mental note: cancel his sky box tomorrow.

I am not entirely sure how this ended up being the story, especially an exposé about my loose parenting ethics. I was planning to write a shepherd’s pie recipe that took 2 hours to cook instead of 30 minutes because the potatoes won the battle with the pressure cooker.

Did I say that the universe was chuckling yesterday as I breezed through the morning?

By the way, salt, soda bicarbonate and vinegar clean the kitchen drain nicely.





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