My husband is the king of husbands. No disrespect to all of the other husbands, but he really is. On New Year’s Eve Day, just in time to not-be-able-to-find-a-plumber-anywhere I managed to clog the garbage disposal with mashed potatoes to such an extent that it backed up and exploded….through the bathroom sink. And the laundry room drain. And my dishwasher. That’s right kids, bits of ground up food and dirty water all over my bathroom, kitchen, laundry room, floors, walls and myself. It even got in the cat’s litter box. Basically my house vomited. I’ll wait while you compose yourself.
That’s the bad news. The good news is that we solved the problem of my long suffering husband almost having five minutes to sit down and not be working his fingers to the bone so Whew! Dodged that bullet.
While I was busy doing my thing (panicking, apologizing and being generally useless) my husband was busy doing his thing (attempting to fix the actual problem). He took things apart, got out some very manly looking tools and asked me to run out and buy some food. I dutifully popped out to buy a cooked rotisserie chicken and some sides from the local market so we would at least have food while the kitchen was torn apart . The resident teen rolled out of bed around noon and had the stones (read: lack of grey matter) to say to me “I’m bored with chicken, can you run out and get me something else?”. She took one look at my face, said quickly “Never mind, I’m good” and did a half run, half power walk back to her room. At least she had that much sense. Remind me to write the post titled “The 837 Times A Day My Teen Is Almost Sent To Military School And Is Too Busy Texting To Realize It.”
Anyhoo…………my poor husband managed to get the plumbing snake caught in the pipe under the bathroom sink and while trying to get it back out, broke the pipe. So it went sorta like this:
We broke down. We called a plumber.
Who couldn’t come out for two days. New Year’s Day was spent with one working bathroom, no kitchen to speak of and me washing dishes out of a bucket like a freakin pioneer. I am woman, hear me whimper. After a day of roughing it by having to handwash dishes when I wasn’t forcing my children to eat off paper towels, I’d had enough. Enter the Nor’easter, which is New England for a wicked huge storm, which is New England for a whole lotta snow.
Naturally, the plumber blew us off, which I understand in this blizzard, (but as far as I know the phones are still working). Anyway, my ridiculously fantastic husband got back to work, Googled all of our issues (because Google is a verb now, thanks to Google), learned what to do and proceeded to fix all of the things that were wrong, all by himself. Then he went out in a snowstorm and got me a coffee. (And NO I didn’t ask him to, I just looked out the window and realized his car was gone.) There are several lessons here. I hit the husband lottery nine years ago. My husband and Google are an unstoppable force. He will always use that power for good. I may not. Also after a week at home, I am reasonably certain that if I didn’t have a job I would never wear a bra.