So. Today I have been kicking ass and not even taking the time to ask any names. Josie is away, and Patrick has day camp this week (Lego Robot Modeling Camp, where they use computer software to design robots and then use Legos to build said bots! How cool is THAT?!), so I am on my own for the first time in over a month. Does that translate into a spa day for mommy? Where I kick off my sandals, grab the organic cheese poofs, and watch a marathon of House Hunters International?
Duh. It means I'm cleaning the house like a madwoman. Hello.
The first thing I did was, of course, call Roto-Rooter, who said they'd be out between 11-2, and the main line repair guy, who said he'd be here on Thursday. Check and double-check. Since then, I've vacuumed the entire house, dusted the whole main level, cleaned the organ and reorganized the sun porch area, organized the cleaning and pet shelves in the pantry, etc etc etc. The RR guy showed up at noon, just after I finished vacuuming, so I got to listen to the drain gurgling and belching for over an hour as I did the other stuff, periodically running over to the sink to make sure nothing had actually erupted out of it. Thank God, nothing did, because I would have FREAKED.
Anyway, the guy came around front and knocked on the door when he was done, and I went out on the front porch to talk to him. He was very nice, and quietly told me that he had cleared out the clog, and there had been a LOT of tampons in there that he got out.
Hear that cracking sound? That's me, falling through the front porch because it caught on fire due to the fact that I was in FLAMES OF MORTIFICATION. I'm standing on my porch, listening to a stranger discuss how he fished my used tampons out of our sewer line. Oh. My. God. Have I mentioned that I'm actually dead right now, and am writing because I came back to life as a HORRIFIED ZOMBIE?
I tried to maintain my composure. I apologized for how awful that must have been, cleared my throat about fifteen times, and asked him if he would like some ice water or some tea in what was probably a very squeaky voice. He said that he had Gatorade in the car, but I'm sure what he was thinking was, 'Are you kidding me? I just fished your Red Tide Canoes out of your drain! I never want to see you again!'
I can't say I blame him.
He also said that our pipe doesn't appear to be broken, but it does look like it has a sagging spot. I don't know what that will mean for the guy who's coming on Thursday, but I'm hoping it doesn't mean that we'll have to have the yard dug up and the whole pipe replaced rather than relined. Cross your fingers that we're OK on that front.
Also, send brains. That's what we zombies eat, right? And my own brain has probably exploded.
2 months ago