Thursday, June 14, 2012
We knew it was going to be one of those days when we woke after a night of steady rain to find our laundry baskets and hamper floating at the bottom of the basement stairs. It was the kind of day when you have to make a grown up decision to deal with a problem that has been going on far too long. Hello, subtle whiff of sewage seeping up through the house? Over the past few months, you all could probably smell the sulfuric stankiness through your computer monitors; but, you were too polite to say anything to me about it. We ignored it, too, and blamed it on the dog. And when the dog was nowhere in sight, we blamed the putrescence on the kids. It just isn't very fun to spend a few hundred dollars on plumbing of any sort- even if it permanently puts an end to the game of, "What's that smell?" But, Mother Frickin Nature and a nearly century old house teamed up to give us a wet wake up call which revealed that our drains were backed up to the street.
Let me tell you, at the end of it all, we felt truly relieved. I now know why they call it plumber's crack. No, it's not the exposed split moon of your plumber peering out of his pants. It's the fact that the work he does, when done just right, makes you feel like you are on crack. We were giddy with grown up excitement. We took care of bidness. Who knew that having your drain snaked could feel so good? I do. And, I'd do it again.