With a turkey thawing in the refrigerator along with enough side dishes to feed the dozens more people than were coming to dinner, we looked forward to Thanksgiving. Tuesday morning, to avoid the Wednesday rush for oven space, I made my traditional pecan pies.
For those with absolutely no cooking skills, don’t be impressed. Pecan pies rate a two on a difficulty scale of one to fifty…just behind Kool-Ade and cocktail sauce. That is precisely why I am given the responsibility for preparing them. Cheryl says that the pies mostly keep me out of trouble and out of the way when real cooking begins.
After all, how much damage can I cause with such simple ingredients and a 350 degree oven for thirty minutes.
People have always underestimated me.
I did everything correctly and even began to wash up when the sink stopped draining. The first question when a drain stops up is always, “What did I do?” Handyman that I am, I went right to work. I emptied the little screen cover we put in the drain. When that didn’t work, I turned on the disposal. Success…the water went right down the drain but before I could even raise my arms in a victory dance, a geyser of water spouted up through the drain like a breaching whale. When it stopped, the sink had even more water than before and it was an unhealthy gray color.
Having reached the limit of my vast resource of plumbing knowledge, I called the man. (Yes, I have seen the noisy freezer episode of Andy Griffith.) First I called Mark, our go-to guy for problems around the house and asked if he had a drain snake. He said he would look but that was not good enough. It was Thanksgiving Tuesday, Cheryl was due home at any time and I panicked. I called three plumbers before I found a fourth who was willing to come out and take a look. The dispatcher said that someone would be out to check between one and four that afternoon.
All my unrealistic hopes for a speedy resolution were dashed and Cheryl arrived home from the Wal-Mart with even more food we could not prepare unless our drain was unstopped.
I met her at the door. If I had owned a baseball catcher’s outfit, I would have worn it. She has never actually thrown anything dangerous at me but Thanksgiving was two days away and, in short, I was afraid.
Cheryl is, in fairness, not a violent person but as I was already unhinged about the situation, I knew that the news would not be taken light-heartedly. There would be no laughing this off. We went through the whole routine again and she got to witness the geyser while I iterated, reiterated and re-reiterated the almost certain fact that I didn’t do anything to cause this particular disaster.
Now was the waiting. Finally after a couple of hours of “What do we do if?” scenarios, the plumber arrived. He looked over the situation in the kitchen while Bailey, our beagle barked ferociously outside the window. After watching the disposal spout water a couple of times and scratching his chin he looked at me and, I kid you not, said, “That’s not good.” Even with my lack of plumbing acumen, that was redundant information.
His next step was to look under the house. While he was in the crawlspace, Bailey was inside, looking out the glass door with the barking that never ceases. Half an hour later, he was back inside with Bailey outside barking. I will save myself words and you time if you can assume that from the first minute of this ordeal until the moment the truck left for the last time, there was a constant baying as only a beagle can bay.
After about four hours of trying to snake out the problem and discovering what was not wrong, the plumber admitted, if not defeat, a strategic withdrawal.
“ I want to get you ready for Thanksgiving,” he told me, “But this has me stumped. I will be back early tomorrow (Wednesday) with my partner. I only have seven years of experience but he has over 35.
Nobody wants to hear that it will take 42 combined years of experience to solve a clogged drain line. That’s not just not good, that’s not even sort of bad…that rings of “Thanksgiving will not go smoothly and furthermore some of the tinsel might just be coming off everybody’s Christmas.”
After a night when it seemed like a good idea to open the pre-mixed eggnog-like pre-mix and throw the cap in the trash, we woke to Thanksgiving eve with hope in our bloodshot eyes and fear for our credit card balance.
To their credit, the two showed up early and went right to work. Another four hours of finding out what was not wrong and the more experienced plumber said, “We’re going to have to go on the roof and see if we can clear out your line.”
Now, novice that I am, I know that drain lines do not run through the roof and I told him so, right to his face. He laughed the “Thanks for the information, Rookie!” laugh and explained that there is a vent pipe on the roof and it leads directly down into the line. Evidently, my pipes took a pretty severe mountain road turn just past the sink and brought the drain snake to a grinding halt.
“If we run the snake down the vent, we can by-pass the turn and clear the block but it will cost this instead of the original price. He wrote a number on a sheet of paper and said the ominous words, “You might want to sit down.” I didn’t sit down, but I did stagger a bit.
Now these were nice fellows and I don’t want to disparage the hard work they had put into getting us unclogged but, Damn! There may be more than tinsel coming off the Christmas cheer.
While they climbed on the roof, still accompanied by the Baskerville baying of the hound of Hill house, I left the house for a quick trip to the Red Dot store. For those of you not familiar with South Carolina’s euphemistic term “Red Dot Store,” I visited the local liquor store. While I resisted the urge to buy two bottles of the pre-loaded eggnog, my strength failed when I spied a bottle of Black Irish Chocolate-Caramel Irish Cream on the impulse aisle. I am, after all, only so strong and I sensed a long day a-coming.
The plumbers finally descended from the roof and with a hitch of hesitation in their voices said, “I think that got it.” After a flush of everything in the house, a run-through of the wash cycle on the dishwasher and the clothes washer and lots of water down the kitchen sink, victory was declared.
Then there was more waiting. They went to the truck and tallied up the cost. Twenty minutes and another eggnog later, they were back. This time I did sit down.
I offered half the price plus a world class beagle but they wanted money.
There is no periscope that lets us see around the corners in life…or around the bend in the drain pipes. Our best laid plans clash with unforeseen reality. So, here’s the picture. Cheryl and I didn’t have a back-up plan and certainly hadn’t planned for a back-up. We had a great opportunity to feel sorry for ourselves and pout our way through the day. But here’s the thing. No matter how much we whine or rage or blame, life goes on with us or without us.
Cheryl wouldn’t let that happen. While I poured a round of pre-loaded nog, and crossed things off my Christmas list, Cheryl was on the phone to Betty, mother-in-law and savior of the day. Thanksgiving was relocated to her house with nary a hitch. With the Ervin family, we don’t have to go over the river and through the woods, just across town. Betty even welcomed my pecan pies.
We put too much hope into things being just right…too much expectation of being the perfect host or friend or parent. We want everything to go just right at Thanksgiving Dinner.
As frustrating as the great sink geyser was, expensive as it was, it was just a small problem in a sea of things we are thankful for.
Thanksgiving was still full of good food and we got to share it with even more family than planned. We spent much of the afternoon being entertained by two-year-old Grady, the most recent member of the Ervin family. He brought back memories of all the two-year-olds that have graced our homes.
I hope that your pre-holiday routine went more smoothly and certainly involved less costly repairs but I also hope you had a chance to spend it with some family too. They are why we give thanks.
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