easily pleased

To add that to the long list of maintenance problems we've had in our apartment, our bathroom sink has been clogged for the past week. We're talking nasty, green, toothpaste and spit water, ruminating in the murky quagmire of our pedestal sink. Beyond Gross.

You don't realize how the simple things in life are so important until they're gone or incapacitated. I walked up to my apartment yesterday afternoon, after a rather pitiful run, to see the little red truck outside of my apartment, indicating that our Maintenance Savior had finally arrived. The old white dude with long, greasy hair and his wife/maintenance sidekick who carries a leather patchwork Betty Boop purse. I love those people.

The stomach-turning sounds of plunging were coming from the bathroom, and I was thinking, "Tried it. Ain't gonna work." Sure enough, Greasy emerged from the bathroom, went out to his Truck of Tricks, and returned with a red bottle with the words "LIQUID FIRE" emblazoned on the label. That's more like it. If the Devil were kind enough to serve cocktails in Hell, which I don't believe he is, I think they would probably be called something like "Liquid Fire." I digress ...

So, Liquid Fire, come to find out, is basically pure acid. That did the trick, and was also successful at burning a couple of holes in my roommate's hand towel, which she was none too happy about.

After we were clog-free, I stood in front of the sink, turning the water on and off and being amazed that the water went down the drain. It didn't even linger for a little while, it just went straight down. I kept trying to make up reasons why I needed to use the sink just so I could be re-amazed.

Sinks that drain are my new favorite thing.