Nathan Bransford - The Forums

I learned it again today. I shoulda known when the kitchen sink backed up a couple weeks ago it wouldn't be a once and done fix. I figured it just needed a quick plunging like it always did. Wrong. I disassembled the piping under the sink. Clogged P-trap. Cleared it, put it back together. No go. Lye drain cleaner didn't clear it. Sulfuric acid drain cleaner didn't clear it. Six feet of drain snake didn't clear it. Three rising action setbacks led me to a realization crisis the problem was far more extensive than I'd expected.

Dad asked why I didn't just notify the landlord. Tantamount to calling the guy and admitting defeat, and a strong suspicion it was my doing that had clogged the pipe. I'd already gotten emotionally committed. I get enough no from people. I won't take it from things. Bigger hammer time.

Knowing the full extent of the problem, outcome less in doubt, and so on, the climax came in the crawl space. Bugs and creepy crawlies and cobwebs and weird white plant sprouts. Cut off the elbow where the pipe turns to run to the collection drain. Solid clogged with hardened grease that had partially turned to soap from reacting with lye and sulfuric acid drain cleaners. Cleared that out and figured it was done.

Before I reattached the elbow, I ran the drain snake down the pipe. Clogged. Six more feet of solid grease and faux soap bits. Tragic crisis followed by three falling action setbacks. Cut another section off and there's still clogged pipe downstream. Drain snake it to open it up. Wonder whether it's enough. Another trip to the hardware store for more couplings and considering a nuclear option. A pressure blaster that would clear the way come hell, high water, or indifference.

Back in the crawl space. Final crisis, to heck with it, just put it together and see if it will flow. It does. Denouement. Time to wash the accumulation of dishes.

Didn't get much writing done today, did you. Hmmm, well, I guess you DID!

Good story. I get stubborn like that sometimes, too.

Thanks, Quill. If writing about writing and telling a story by it weren't so, I don't know, more likely than not to meet with reader resistance, I could write a ton of them. I've got one I'm trying to get past the preacher-teacher narrator and into visionary or mystic territory with. It's working titled The First Story Ever Told. A retelling actually, sort of a debriefing of an early human's day recounted to companions as best she's able with nonverbal utterances and gestural expressions. The dawn of language maybe.

Wow, polymath, talk about perseverance. That's impressive. Seriously. Quite apart from not knowing how to do any of things you did to resolve the problem, I was also amazed at the number of themes one could draw just from this quick insight into problem solving. Could be a good case study as it stands - a study in human behavioral traits!

And the concept and working title for your story sounds fascinating; challenging, and fascinating. Enjoy creating it. I'm sure it will be a masterpiece.

Plumbing's a plot too, Leila, thanks. I've got a bunch of life-defining issues I want to understand the meaning of. Paralleling them with concrete problems, like clearing a clogged pipe and its many presenting themes, is one approach I'm exploring. That approach works artful wonders for creative nonfiction through extended metaphor. I don't think I have any clogged pipes in the ol' body physical, but there's some in the foreseeable future.

I had three reactions to this story:

1. YUCK! That's a lot of grease. Very nasty job.

2. Polymath has a Dad? Wow. Future Google has parental roots. Who'd've guessed?

3. What an amazing writing exercise. I thought you told the story concisely, with little or no flourish, yet the atmosphere of the crawl space and the feet upon feet of gunk came clearly to my mind. Once again you've proved your mastery of the English language, Polymath. I tip my hat to you.

And I hope your drain remains clear.

Huh, dios4vida, yuck, the very emotional response I was going for. Thanks. It was disgusting. But I had to do it. I'm moving though. End of the month I'll be sleeping in Babel and no longer relaxing in subtropical hermitage. The hermitage plumbing will no longer be of any concern to me so long as it holds out a few more weeks. It will. I made sure of it. Knock on wood.