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20150101_194255I have a snake and I know how to use it — insert it in the right pipe, manipulate each joint into just the right position, push it in as far as it will go, in and out until it finds the sweet spot, spin it around while it does its job.

Hold that thought for a second.  That first sentence should be a FB status.  I’ll be right back.

Until today, I was an amateur snake handler, venturing into virgin territory.  My only hope was that it would work the way I hoped it would.  So unsure of myself was I that I borrowed a friend’s snake.  I’m so glad I did.  So is my wife.  Now she calls me Mister Plumber.

Those drains flow very smoothly now.  One might say they purr, if one were prone to describing plumbing that way.

Wednesday afternoon I arrived home from work to find a note taped across our double tub stainless steel kitchen sink — ‘Do not use sink.  It is clogged.  Steve?  Help?’.  DUH OH!!!  Great boobly mooblies (that was inspired by a blog I just subscribed to, one that promises more boobs in 2015)!!!  Here I thought was going to sneak in an hour or so playing around in the dirt on my mountain bike.  Instead I was going to venture into a world I enter with much trepidation.  It’s not that I am totally afraid of plumbing or fixing things that go pop around the house.  I like it.  I like the tremendous chest bulging (boobs are on my brain) feeling of accomplishment I get when success is achieved.  Our house is nearly 30 years old.  I get plenty of opportunity to bulge my chest.

The first order of business was to grab the toilet plunger.  You never know if a few pumps of the plunge will work a clog loose.  It did strike me that once I did fix the sink, my next task would be to clean and sanitize said sink.  Ummm.. yuck.

Fwoop fwoop fwoopah

That was the sound of the plunger plunging, if you need help figuring that out.  I pulled out and waited for the familiar swirling eddy.  Nope.  Grungy bracken gurgled out of the drain on the opposite sink tub.  Thankful for a weak sense of smell, something I have always considered merciful to me, I grimaced at the foul cream cheese chunks swimming in the greenish brown water.  The clog was deep and not in either drain trap.

My next option was to hope that drain cleaner would work.  We had a half used bottle of Drano under the bathroom sink upstairs, a necessity when a redhead with long curly hair occupies your abode.  A daughter with that type of hair makes for some pretty nasty shower drain clogs if the drains are not regularly maintained.  However, the clog in the kitchen sink drain was likely going to be more difficult to move than hair.  Grease and who knows what else was likely the culprit.  My wife pours our used coffee grounds down the sink disposal or at least she did until I caught her a week ago.

Drano did not work.  I was not surprised.  I removed the trap from  each drain pipe to drain the evil soup from each sink.  If I was going to succeed this time, something stronger than Drano and more like sulfuric acid would be required.  A pipe snake would also be a good idea.

Voila.  My friend Mike loaned me his snake.  He has a long one.

I wasn’t quite sure how to use it.  I had seen one before but a tool such as this one was a mystery to me.  A drain snake is basically a long metal rope with a barb on the end.  Using it seemed something I could learn as I used it. It took a few tries before I got in all the way in, then another try before I was able to spin it.


The snake sunk further in as it pushed through the clog.  Success was mine.  HAhahahahahahaaaaaaa.

I poured in a bottle of the strong stuff and let it soak for a while after I had put the pipes back in order.  Turned on the faucet, tense with anticipation as the water poured into the drain, hoped there would be no back up.

There was none.

My snake is king.