From the Domestication Diaries

Holy Bongo Schittz!  The utter delirious joy and satisfaction that my landlord is deriving from this whole clogged pipe turned must hunt and destroy the migratory mass is amazing and sorta scary.  A few minutes ago he yells for assistance.  So I go out and he gives me instructions like he is sending me into battlefield, "ok.  this is what i need you to do.  climb up the ladder.  are ya with me so far?"  well, ok, it wasn't exactly like that.  but close enough.  so i'm atop the ladder, shoving a snake (he didn't call it that, he said, "there's a hole, on top your roof, and there is a thin metal strap sticking out from it.  push it in til i say so.") thru the vent hole and all of a sudden, it starts streaking past me down the hole at an alarmingly fast rate.  we're talking feet per second fast.  he thinks I'm pushing it, and starts yelling, "whoa, so, so, so...STOP".  Not about to slice my hands open on rusty snakes (have you seen where they've been!?!), I holler back, "want me to stop the sneaking streaking snake?!?".  Silence (except for the whisper of swifty, the snake, as it continued its journey).  Then my landlord hollers up, with resignation, "c'mon down."

A few minutes later, he hauls himself out from under my trailer and tells me that it won't get fixed til tomorrow cuz now, there's a broken pipe.  You know, after so many years, that there pvc stuff gets brittle.  So, he needs to go home, hose off outdoors, strip in the mudroom, wash down in the mudroom sink, then tiptoe thru the kitchen and sitting room to the bathroom to shower and disinfect and then he'll have to pick up the parts in town cuz it's a plum'in' law that no plumbing job shall ever require less than 6 trips to your choice of plum'in'ware store.  All that will take until dark and he left his flashlighted helmut at work.

No problem, I wasn't planning to wash the several day old bowls anyway.  And if I do, I'll just do em while I take a shower.  I'm resourceful like that.