Common sense and plumbing
So, we often talk about how I have all the common sense. Except, yesterday, I did not.
Let me start the story in the confused manner that I encountered it myself.
Last night, I puttered until about midnight. I went up to bed and remembered that I had to put my laundry in the dryer and so I tromped back down the stairs and then realized that the oats I had been soaking were done and that I should assemble the granola that I’ve been working on putting together for three days. I chop up my nuts, I put all the fruit in the food processor and go to wash my sticky hands. I turn the water on.
“Blub-blub,” the sink says.
Hmm, I guess it’s stopped up again (I have a VERY bad habit of getting things stuck in it - bad Joy). So I plug the one side and get the plunger out. I pump a couple times and see this brown gel goo blubbing up from the second sink. What the holy cow is that?! I pump a few more times and water comes shooting out at my legs from under the counter.
I open the cupboard to see EVERYTHING hosed down in a brown water gel-like goo. Ohmygoodness, teh gross.
So, first things first, holler at the top of my lungs for Husband to come help. It’s 12:45am, he’s already in bed reading. He tromps downstairs in nothing but what god gave him and I explain the situation.
“Let me get some clothes on,” he grunts.
I pull everything out from under the sink, wiping it off the whole time, trying to resist my gag reflex. The whole time, I’m smelling cloves. Cloves?! What the heck did I put down the sink with cloves in it?!
He gets the plunger while I watch to see where the water is leaking from. Pump-pump. SPRAY…
It may have almost hit me, ew.
The compression fitting for the secondary sink came loose. Husband unscrews it, puts it back together and screws it back together. Ok, problem one solved.
He plugs up the secondary sink and starts plunging the primary sink. The plug flies out, spraying water AT MY HEAD. Good thing I had my mouth closed is all I can say, omg.
I hold the plug down, he pumps with the plunger. I see all the pipes under the sink heave up and down with each pump. It’s kind of like a disturbing heart pumping under my sink. Ew.
So, no dice. It’s after 1, I’m covered in water and goo, we call it a night; we’ll call the plumber in the morning.
Then, I remember I still have to finish my granola. Crap.
I took the oats outside and drained them into a colander sitting on the cement. Real classy. Then I ground up the fruit to make a paste, dumped everything in a bowl and mix and put on the dehydrator trays. Great, then I have all these dishes and no where to rinse them. I scrape everything out and decide to rinse them in the bathtub. What a sight!
Then I remember I’ve had my wheat soaking for 12 hours, and it’s time to rinse that for sprouting. So I drag that to the bathtub. Problem is I’ve filled the jars too full, so I have to pull it all out to get the stuff all stuck together loosened at the bottom. That took some time and there’s little pieces of bloated wheat skittering across the bathroom tiles. I can just imagine the cat trying to eat it and play with it sometime later. Or the next morning, Husband trying to figure out why there are little granules of wheat in the toilet (mice trained to use the toilet?).
I finish up and it’s 2:30am. I’m still so amped up from the excitement I can’t get to sleep til 3.
So, fast forward to the next morning. I wake up early (for me) and call the plumber. They arrive about an hour later, I explain problem, guy looks at me dubiously, perhaps like I’m on fire. He opens the port behind the kitchen sink and runs 80 feet of snake in. Then he goes in and removes the sink pipes.
Sweet mother of everything good.
There is some kind of rubbery substance completely blocking the pipes. What the hellokitty is that? (I still did not remember what I put down the drain at this point)
He pulls it out with a screwdriver, it’s the consistency of like putty and a not-so-appealing brown, and smells like cloves. Half hour later, he’s cleared all the pipes, snaked 80 feet of the main pipe and my checking account is lighter.
Let me stop here to preface that it’s not like I couldn’t have pulled the pipes out and done the under-sink cleanup myself. And had I realized at the time what it was, I might have, but generally anything dealing with outgoing sewer pipe, I can’t stand to deal with. Looking down the black hole of pipe coming out of the floor for a toilet makes me want to toss my cookies into it, mostly due to the smell wafting out of it, but also just the thought of what goes down that hole, ew. Omg, ew. Ew. EW-WUH! So, I’m MORE than happy to pay someone else with a stronger stomach and perhaps a nose that’s less sensitive to handle those things.
Plumber leaves and I start disinfecting every surface I can see. I look into the sink and see this brown goo stuck to the splash guard over the disposal.
And then it dawns on me.
What that stuff was.
Why it smelled like cloves.
And I hung my head, realizing that this entire endeavor is 100% my fault and I am a complete dumbass.
A couple of years ago I was trying an elimination diet to see if I was allergic to any foods. They had me taking this stuff that helps clean you out and is supposed to be anti-parasitic. It’s got senna leaf, cloves and psyllium husk.
What does psyllium husk do when it hits water? It expands. A LOT.
And as I was cleaning things up in the kitchen for my sister’s visit, without even thinking I took the entire quart jar and dumped it down the disposal, ran some water and left it.
If I had taken more than 5 seconds to remove my cranium from my posterior and think this plan through, I would have realized what a rookie mistake that was. But no, I dumped, ran water and went about my business. And then over the next several hours, it expanded and expanded and expanded.
Holy cow.
I am so dumb.
So, moral of the story: do NOT put psyllium husk down the drain.
At this point, I realize that we’re not going to have a disposal at the new house, since we’re going to be on septic. And perhaps now is a good time to pretend like we don’t have one now so I can start getting into good habits.
Oy.
Originally published at A Well-Armed Laura Ingalls Wilder. You can comment here or there.