Drained

Standard

How
to
fix
a
clogged
shower
drain…. I googled.

Few things ruin your appetite quite like fixing your own shower drain first thing in the morning. I went from dreaming of pancakes to saying things like, “No thanks, I ate yesterday” after the stench of plunging a 40 year old drain filled the master bathroom. Three words. Dis. Gust. Ting.

But I must say, my husband and I have been able to solve a number of problems with a little help from Mr. Google and Mrs. Youtube lately. Message boards and comments help too. I don’t know how plumbers, mechanics and appliance repair people are staying in business these days.

We’ve fixed everything from a busted clothes dryer to a ’95 Mercedes Benz using those little online tools. Step by step instructions using tools we already have or occasionally a modestly priced new part and voila! Fixed! No waiting for the repair man between the hours of 9am and 4pm! No getting bamboozled because I’m an ignorant housewife who doesn’t know how much spark plugs cost. Plus, a sense of accomplishment! What could be better?

Hmmm, I don’t know…an appetite, maybe?

For example, here was my morning:

Step One: Unscrew shower drain cover. Easy peasy. Then untwist a good old fashioned wire hanger leaving the hook at the end intact and fish it down the drain and attempt to hook the responsible hairball down there and pull it out. If it’s too gross, wear gloves. I did. Still gross. And water still not draining.

Step Two: If step one doesn’t work (highly unlikely), plunge the drain 5 or 6 times. I did. Now there’s black water everywhere and the shower is still not draining. I’m glad I kept the gloves on, but now I wish I had thought to put on fishing waders too. And a gas mask.

Step Three: If steps one and two still don’t work (highly, highly unlikely) then pour down the drain half a cup of salt, half a cup of baking soda and a cup of vinegar and chase it down with a kettle of boiling water. Check, check and check. Gloves still on. Still wish we owned waders and I’ve cracked the bathroom window open. But now the shower has turned into an ultra gross fifth grade volcano science experiment with black foam sudsing everywhere. Gross. Why don’t we own waders??

Step four: If steps one, two and three still don’t yield results, (highly, highly, highly unlikely) plunge again. I did, with the beads of sweat on my brow mixing with the putrid stench, droplets of disgustingness squirting my way…that’s it, I’m calling a plumber, I seethed. And then….

Flush!

It worked! The water drained out in a flash! I did it! I did it! I did it! I felt like Dora the Explorer–Lo Hicimos! The black foam, the black water, and all the horrifying things that burped up with it, all down the drain, rushing home towards the sewage treatment center as we speak. Whew!

I mean really, I don’t know who calls a plumber anymore.

Ugh. I need a shower. So glad mine works now.

 

 

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