I was an amateur plumber

I was tired of sinks and drains backing up. I was ready to replace two inefficient faucets that started to leak. I wasn’t ready to pay a plumber two bills for a twenty dollar faucet and a quick clog job on two partially blocked drains. So I went to Home Depot.

I didn’t find what I wanted.

So I went to Lowes. I picked up a couple faucets and a drain snake/auger. I would’ve picked up a stronger stomach too, but they were on back order. The faucets went in without too much trouble, but the shower drain was more of a challenge. It wasn’t a technical challenge. It was a holding my cookies as I pulled the goo out of the drain kind of challenge. I was completely unprepared for its makeup and consistency. If you don’t think you can stomach a description, please read no further.

I was expecting soupy. You know, something having a relatively high water content. Instead, it was more like a renewable resource for road repair. It was thick, black and greasy, held together by a matted matrix of hair. I was expecting the hair, but black tar? Then there was the smell. Should I tell you about the smell? Could I tell you about the smell? Could I possibly put it into words? It kind of smelled the way I’d imagine a sewer would smell – if I’d ever smelled a sewer. Crawling around in a sewer is one experience I’ve thus far been denied.

Poor me.

This was worse. It was like I’d bathed in it, the smell surrounding me in a swirl of moldy, rotting filth.

Whatever the remains of our seemingly harmless showers became, it took ten minutes to wash off my hands. Two applications of Tilex and scrubbing would not remove it completely from the shower floor. When I say it was a God awful mess, I mean it like no other mess I’ve encountered, and remember – I have two kids.

This weekend I’m going to clear out the sink in the kids’ bathroom.

Pray for me.