IMPROVEMENT AT YOUR DISPOSAL

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You know, sometimes you really should call a professional. Or at least an amateur who has an inkling of how to fix things.

Yes, once again I have made the monumental mistake of trying to fix something in my house. This time, it was the garbage disposal. I was clearing the dishes one evening after dinner, scraping the plates into the sink. (Because this is America, the freest, richest country in the world, we routinely cook six or seven meals at a time, just so we can throw them out. That’s how American we are.)

Anyway, I went to flip the garbage disposal switch, and make all of the food magically go away. Instead of the lawnmower-like growl it normally impresses me with, it sounded more like this: "bzzzzzzz." Only not as loud.

Immediately, I knew that (a) something was broken and (b) there was a lot of nasty food stuck down in the sink, and that was going to smell about as nice as a prison gym after a short while.

Here’s where I kinda wonder what’s wrong with me. I went to the back of the house to tell my wife that the disposal is broken. Somehow, during the 20-foot walk, I was completely distracted and forgot to tell my wife anything. I forgot that the disposal was even broken. It wasn’t until the next night when I stood over the sink and said, "What’s that smell? Have the inmates been doing push-ups in my sink?"

That’s when the little tiny wheels in brain began whirring and churning. "Mike," my brain said, "remember last night when you found yourself standing in the living room, and couldn’t remember what you were doing?" I nodded. "YOU WERE GOING TO TELL YOUR WIFE ABOUT THE DISPOSAL! IT’S A WONDER YOU REMEMBER TO BREATHE SOMETIMES!!!" My brain had had a long day.

So at that point I decided that I would fix the garbage disposal right then and there, lest I find myself wandering aimlessly through the living room again. The disposal had broken one time before, and my wife did the unthinkable – she called a qualified repairman to come out and fix it. He fixed the whole thing in about six seconds. "Piece a metal was stuck in there" was his diagnosis. (Curse that fancy jargon!)

I decided that the professionals had gotten their shot, so it was time to let a real non-professional take a crack at it. First, I pulled everything out from under the sink. (Do you know I have 564 different kinds of floor cleaners, some of which clean floors that I don’t even have? I really don’t know what my wife was thinking when she bought marble polish.) Next, I loosened some screws, wiggled some pipes, and voila – I spoke French. No, only kidding. Just like that I had a nice big puddle of nasty, old food water in my cabinet. But, regardless of the fetid pool of yuck that had formed, I had freed the disposal from its sink captor.

"Honey," I yelled, "come in here! I wanna show you something!" As my wife entered the kitchen, I held the garbage disposal above my head like a fresh kill and said, "And you once PAID someone to do this!"

"Uh, Mike – he just stuck a screw driver down in the sink, wiggled it around, and the thing started working. He didn’t…uh….do whatever it is you did." She saw my face sink and quickly added, "But I sure am proud of your for…managing to get it…undone." She then shook her head and left the room, possibly to question some of her life decisions.

Eventually, using a screwdriver, I did manage to free up the blades, although, technically, I didn’t need to dismantle my kitchen to do that. (Important tip for next time.) I went to reinstall the disposal, and everything was going fine. I cut on the water, just to make sure I had put all of the pipes and such back in place. The pipes were technically in place, but there was a fairly steady stream of water coming out at one place. Defeat reached me. I told my wife that there was a bowl under the kitchen sink to catch water, but to try and not use the sink. If she needed water, well, the toilet seems good enough for the dog, so why not us?

At this point, I resorted to my last non-charging source: I called Morris. Morris is the guy I always call when things break. Morris can fix things. Without breaking other things. And, Morris can be bought with a buffet dinner. (Hey, wait – he did charge me!)

Morris took one look at the problem and said, "You know there’s supposed to be a washer there, right?" Turns out, while I was planning on replacing the entire kitchen, all I needed was a 29 cent washer. Morris went to Lowe’s with me, mainly as a wife-ordered chaperone, and I returned with the washer. I put it in the pipe, tightened it up and the drip stopped.

So we now have a working disposal and non-leaking pipes. And all it cost us was a dinner at a buffet restaurant. I think I have learned some valuable home improvement lessons. I think I am ready to take on bigger and more potentially lethal projects. In fact, if you have some home improvement work that needs to be done, give me a call. And I’ll give you Morris’ number.