I have no problem admitting that I am not all that handy.
Truth be told I wish I were but I was terrible in shop class and everything to do with carpentry. Electricity scares the hell out of me for some reason and I’ve watched enough HGTV to know my limits.
So there we are on Sunday afternoon, gearing up for what turned out to be a terrible performance by the Bears, when I decided to throw out some old flowers we had in a vase. They were roses H brough home from a work function and died relatively quickly so it was time to get them off the counter.
This is where it gets slightly embarrassing.
I never used a garbage disposal until moving to Los Angeles. I am pretty sure H has always had one but that wasn’t the case with me. As a matter of fact, we didn’t have a shower in our house until around 1990 (we had a tub, no shower). A dishwasher made an appearance in our house some time in the mid-1990s but there sure as hell was no garbage disposal.
So there I am waiting to throw out the flowers when I decided the disposal could handle them. Why did I think that? Well it’s designed to handle chicken bones and other hard materials, surely it can take a flower.
Apparently I was wrong.
I ran the cold water, turned on the disposal and put the first flower down there. As it spun wildly around the drain rose petals were flying off and hitting me in the face. I sort of stuffed the stem down the drain and marvelled at the stubborn stem – “Wow, the disposal works on all kinds of things but it’s having trouble with the flower? Huh, who knew!”. A few more stems, this time flower first to avoid being struck, but still they just wouldn’t get swallowed up like I thought.
I like the garbage disposal and have put everything from vegetables to whole eggs down there. It’s right up there with the thrill of shredding documents (I would have done well at Enron).
A few more stems and I finally gave in, realizing this just wasn’t meant to be. I yank out the remaining stem and turn off the disposal before running some water and watching it back up into the sink.
Uh oh.
At this point H gleefully mentions how she isn’t yelling at me whereas I supposedly would have if she had done this.
Around the same time the dishwasher decides to train and this is when I learn that it in fact drains into the disposal and then the disposal drains into the pipe.
I run water in other sink and watch it all go down the train without incident. In the mean time I have bailed water out of the sink connected with the disposal and decided there must be a clog with the garberator. I unplug the disposal, and throw the breaker switch just in case (remember my aversion to electricity) before launching my hands down into the drain but feel nothing. I remember there being a tool under the sink that has something to do with the disposal so I use that as instructed to turn the blades but that did nothing.
More dishwasher draining = more sudsy water mixed with remnants of flower stems = more bailing.
So the disposal isn’t clogged, therefore it must be the drain.
Grab the toolbox but find out there isn’t a wrench big enough to get around the pipes. As I am sitting in the floor I decide to give the connection a go with my hands and guess what, they were loose! So I disconnect one joint, use a screwdriver to loosen the disposal from the sink so I can move it around, and then take out one more pipe joint. In the end I find the spot where all the stems have been ground up and are stuck in the pipe. I fish that out with my hands for a while and pour water down the exposed pipe before concluding the passage is now clear.
Reattach all the pipes with my handy tools, a screw driver and my hands, before confirming that everything is once again working fine.
I’m not Mike Holmes or Bob Villa but I felt handy for once.
I also know just to throw the damn flowers in the garbage.