THAT SINKING FEELING

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You know, sometimes you’re just better off not knowing what’s inside your drains.

I started my journey into the innards of my kitchen pipes when my wife informed me that something had fallen down in to the kitchen sink, and she wanted me to retrieve it. Well naturally I asked what had fallen down there, because, quite frankly, I need some info before I go sticking my hand into the dark recesses of my plumbing. “It’s that little button thing…you know…that goes on top of the faucet…that tells you hot or cold…you know?”

I stared at her just long enough to make her self-conscious. After all these years, I still enjoy doing that. “You know what I’m talking about! That little button that has a ‘C’ on it, just like the one that has an ‘H’ on it on the hot water one. Stop staring at me!”

Truth be told, I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I was just curious as to exactly how she was going to describe that thing. Alas, Rich Hall, the world still needs you.

I’m not quite sure how the thing popped out and went down the drain, but that was of no consequence to me. I had to look forward, and the task at hand was to rescue the lost C button, as it has become known in my household.

At first, I thought I would be able to simply slide my hand down into the drain and retrieve it. Unfortunately, there is a little grate over the drain hole, so it left me no choice but to….dramatic pause…start a home repair.

I opened up the cabinet underneath the sink and saw a twisting web of pipes winding around under the sink and out the back of the cabinet. That’s when I learned an important lesson in home repair: when you’ve crawled halfway underneath your sink, make sure that your wife is watching your 13-month old, because certain young daughters will see this an exciting game and try to climb in with you, nearly wedging both of you underneath the cabinet. Fortunately, I saw disaster approaching and wriggled out from under the sink before my daughter could finish her game. This is good, because I am fairly sure no one would have been able to call for help, as they would have been in a heap on the floor laughing.

Once I had my daughter secured out of the way (yet another use for duct tape!), I went back under the sink. Apparently, the people who design these things have realized that we, the average homeowners, have the common sense of a pine cone. The piping underneath my sink is connected by amazingly simply plastic bolts that easily screw into one another and interlock. Just a couple of twists by hand and boom! – the piping was disconnected.

Granted, so was all of the water that was hanging out in it. You’d be surprised just how much water can linger in a few inches of pipe. By my estimate, it was about 700 gallons.

Anyhow, once I finished mopping up the small pond that I had created, I pulled the piece of piping out to examine it thoroughly. I figured that I would see the C button resting neatly in the crook of the piping, and success would be mine. I stared down into the piping to see if the C button was looking up at me like a little Jessica McClure, just waiting to be hauled to safety.

Alas, there would be no rescue. Not only did I not see the C button, but what I did see was this grayish build-up of…of…well, I don’t really know what it was. It was just kinda grayish ick. I thought the C button may be hidden somewhere in the ick, so I decided to try and flush out the pipe with some water. Now, does anyone want to try and figure out why that was a mistake?

After cleaning up the pond underneath the sink for a second time, I decided to use the appropriate tool for cleaning out the pipe – a shish-kabob skewer. Those skewers are one of the most functional tools on the planet. I have cooked shish-kabobs maybe twice, but I have used the skewers on thousands of occasions, including stirring paint and disrupting the peace and harmony of a fire ant mound. Armed with my multi-purpose skewer, I proceeded to extract all of the ick from the pipe, and let me tell you – there was a lot of ick there. But, sadly, still no C button. I guess it got blasted through the ick and sucked down into where it is the pipes ultimately lead. So we are C-buttonless, but at least I have ridded my pipes of ick. Oh, and by the way, if I ever invite you over for kabobs, decline.