It's that time again.
The collected hair of the five of us has severely handicapped the shower drain. In an improvement over my last attempt, I went straight this time to the improvised coathanger snake (which my dad showed me how to use, also last time), which I expected to neatly produce the Big Hairball on its first descent. It sloppily produced a number of Small Hairballs instead, and I seem to have succeeded in moving the Big One to a location where nothing -- at all -- will go down the shower drain.
Many years ago now (like eight!), after a day of taking practice Baby Bar exams and a brief contemplation of jumping out a seventh-story window, Danielle and I were talking about our future husbands' possible professions. Danielle thought it would be smart to marry a plumber.
I didn't and still don't have any innate inclination to marry a plumber, as my most bothersome clogs are of the mental variety, and need to be set straight or sorted out in other ways.
But she did have a point.
In the meantime, I think I'd better go bake something nice for my dad.
1 comment:
Aggh...this brings back horrible memories of seven college girls in a five-bedroom house with two bathrooms and continuous clogging. We got very good at the coat hanger trick as there were no men willing to resue us. But can you blame them? I mean, seven girls! All with medium to long hair. Ugh.
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