Hossmom is wondering why I am freaking out about the stopped up kitchen sink. She seems to be very nonchalant about it, that it is no big deal. She says that she knows that I can fix it and when I couldn't, she didn't seem to freak out at all. She wants to know why it's stressing me out so much. Let me explain in terms that I think that she can understand.
When my wife gets the random pain in the calf or a tingle in her arm, she makes the mistake of going to WebMD or other sites that instantly diagnosis her with cancer. Then she convinces herself that it's not cancer but she had a heart attack and didn't realize it because somewhere she read an article that women have lots of heart attacks and don't realize it. She fixates on this information and practically hyperventilates. Thank's WebMD, you guys make my life so much easier. From the very bottom of my heart, fuck you guys.
When I calm her down and tell her that it's just the aches and pains of getting old, she then reminds me that the very first guy that did jogging in the 70's died of a heart attack so what hope does she have? She will then begin to list all these super healthy people that have died of heart attacks. This can go on for a while.
So using that analogy I can now frame the house repair stuff in a way that she will get my stress. If there is something that is wrong with the house, like a plugged sink that I can't reach, I begin to go down the WEBMD of the house. It's not just a plugged line, an easy fix for a professional. It's a multi-million dollar repair that is going to bankrupt me. In short, it's house cancer. And if it's not house cancer, it's a house heart attack. That's what it is. That's where my mind goes. It can't just be a blocked line because I know what my kids and wife have dumped down that thing. It's some mutant monster now that is chewing the insides of my house, that is destroying the goodness that is my life.
That heart attack house monster just started on the sink drain. It has now moved on to the main sewer line and they will eventually have to dig up my yard, replace pipes, rebury the Indians that we accidentally built upon, and upset the very nature that is reality. The bill, of course, will be worth more than the national debt.
As a single income family, I have no hope of paying this off. The best I can do is to sell myself into debtors prison and hope that my children can grow up fine without me. I will be an indentured servant in some plumbing company, going around to other houses and digging up their yards, thus recruiting more members to our cult. For lunch, they will give me whatever greasy fish is pulled out of drains.
Look, I know realistically it's just a simple sink plug. I know that it's just farther down the line than my feeble plumbing skills can reach. I know that most likely it's nothing more than a routine maintenance. But I also know who lives in this house. Hell, 10 years of this blog is dedicated to a number of things my children have broken. Would I be terribly surprised to find a barbie head and a pair of pliars are what is clogging my sink? No, no I would not. In fact, it's always a wonderful surprise when it's actually something other than us.
I know just enough about home repairs to freak myself out. I see a clog in the sink and if I can't fix it, I know that a possibility is that it's a clog in the main sewer line and that is going to get pricey. And then my head thinks things like "It's probably busted and sewage is right now at this moment flooding my basement!"
So there, Hossmom, that is why I was a bit stressed out by our simple sink clog. That's why I was nervous all weekend when I couldn't fix it myself. That's why I would prefer to hide in a hole and let a grown up handle things for a little bit, this grown up needed to consult house WebMD and then slowly prepare for a life of cleaning other people's toilets.