Thug Life

Living alone, you learn things (not only about yourself) but about things you NEVER thought about while living with the parentals. And being alone, you are forced to problem solve and figure things out on your own. I recently became my own personal plumber. Now, I’ve had little to no personal experience with any sort of gross nasty thing that would make me feel dirty. (Ask Shannel to tell you the story about a particular girls night that ended with a toilet spraying water into the sky…and my involvement in fixing that…yeah, I didn’t even help call Eric Henry. I hid elsewhere.) So imagine, if you will, me, Kristin K. Thomas, trying to unclog my bathroom sink. It all started one morning when I realized, it was not draining. Living in an apartment complex that…well…doesn’t really have a maintenance person, you learn to fix things yourself. I don’t own anything to help unclog pipes, so I used bleach…hoping it would break things down enough for my toothpaste spit water to drain. When it finally did, I noticed what appeared to be a wet rodent-type thing sticking out around the plug. Disgusting. So, I decide to CSI it. Turns out, it is indeed not a wet muskrat, but pounds of my luscious brown locks. That’s right, ladies and gents, in the almost year I have lived at Le Boulders, I have lost enough hair (just in the sink, mind you) to provide at least 30 bald men with toupees. And, since I dyed my hair, I can see that it is the problem. Still, not wanting to make a mad rush to Walmart to fix it, I decide to get clever and make a plumber’s snake out of an old wire hanger. So, I mold my hanger snake into, well, just a stretched out hanger and begin to scrape the 87 pounds of hair out of my drain. After the gagging and eye-watering die down, I pull out a hairball the size of a small dog. I’m making progress…I turn on some water…and see that although my dachshund sized wad has been removed, the water is still slowly draining. All the hard work, the sweat, the tears, the vomit…the sink is still clogged. It was terrible. What was even worse was the fact that I’d spent what little free time I have removing a wet mini-horse from a drain. (The depression set in…) Moral of the story: Although it is somewhat rewarding to be independent and handy, it’s always best to call Ric and have him fix your problem. I did buy some drain stuff and with some guidance, the sink is fixed…but the memories of that vicious wet muskrat have been instilled in my brain forever. Solution: I’ve pulled a Britney and shaved my head. Thus, preventing any future cloggage.