Poor Sweetie

In addition to forcing him to move from balmy locales in the Carolinas, I have also forced Boxer to become a handyperson. Well, at least a handy helper.

First, I had him mowing the lawn. And then he put on a new doorhandle to the basement door (well, tried to put on a new handle; it was uncooperative and tricky, to say the least - joys of old houses).

And then came the ultimate:

"Ugh, sweetie, I am going to try and take the bathroom sink pipes apart because there is some weird crud down in there and nothing is draining right," said I.

"Just use Draino," said he.

"Yeah, I think this is beyond Draino."

So, on Friday, while I was home hacking up a lung and working from my couch, I took a look at the pipes and realized that the crude was in the part of the pipes that I can't take apart, so that evening I sent Boxer out for some foaming pipe snake, and we foamed it and all the crud fell down into the gooseneck.

Not good.

So, on Saturday morning, I said, "Let's take the pipes apart. The crud is now in the section of the pipe that I can take apart."

I crawled under the bathroom sink and started taking the pipes apart. Boxer grabbed a towel so we didn't get water all over, and then I handed it to him - after nearly forgetting that the pipes were apart and attempting to pour it down the sink (le duh).

The gross pipe with the horrid crud.

"What the hell is that! What do you want me to do with it?"

"Put it in the trash and then wash the pipe out."

"This is so why I lived in apartments and would just call maintenance."

Well, he has a point there.

Anyway, we got the sink back together and now it flows like the clearest stream.

Just wait until we start tearing insulation out of the attic and carpet out of the basement!