I have long, fine hair and a clogged drain in the bathroom is not a rare occurrence, but the timing might have been better. I was ready to climb under the covers, turn on my audiobook, and sink into the world of Laurie King’s Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes.
Instead, I was going to have to clean out the drain because it was completely stopped.
I gave the room a keen looking over. Not too bad. Dusty, as ever, but I’d been keeping it up. Since I got rid of the rug that had been shedding, it was a lot easier to keep it reasonably clean, but the hair in the sink … well … as long as the mirror is over the sink, there’s an inevitability about the clogging of the drain.
You can run, but you cannot hide. But why a quarter of one in the morning? It could have done this any other time of the day and I wouldn’t have minded nearly as much. Or so I thought.
I looked around and spied a full container of Liquid Plumbr. “Aha!” I cried, promptly emptying the entire container into the offending drain.
I tooled around for the requisite 15 minute. That stuff rarely fails. It’s pure lye and will cut through just about anything. So, when the time had elapsed, I turned on the hot water tap and fully expected some gurgling, gulping, and then free draining. Not this night.
Instead, it started to burp up the most revolting things I’d ever seen. Mold that looked like tiny leaves of lettuce from hell. Black gunk in globs. Nameless, hideous, furry things. It was the stuff of nightmare. And the drain wasn’t clearing. The water was still not going down.
Near to panic, I found long tweezers and started to extract clumps of god-knows-what from the drain. Still not draining. I got my long, skinny drain brush and the most nauseating crud was coming out.
By now it was heading towards two in the morning. I’d used my big gun and it hadn’t done the job. I poured down the de-lime, de-slime agent. All of it. Finally, some hint of water movement.
I added a few cups of Mr. Clean and reamed out the drain as far as I could reach. The water went down. Next, I will have to get my son to clean the trap, a job that I am absolutely positive he will not want to do and I don’t blame him. I will make ever effort to be anywhere but home when the event occurs. The cursing and swearing that accompanies this activity is more than I can bear.
Bathrooms. Drains. Lovecraftean things are living, growing, and breeding down there. Hideous things. Green and black slimy things.
I don’t think I’ll sleep for a week.