I'm not a plumber

I haven't told anyone this story yet.

A couple weeks ago, before puke-fest 2015 hit our household, Michael's sink in the master bath had started draining very slooooowly. He mentioned something to me about getting some Drano the next time I was at the store. I gave him an "Okay, sure." and then I promptly forgot all about it because that's what I do unless I drop everything and write it down NOW. Everyone is used to this and will usually remind me again, but for some reason he didn't. A few days later, I started noticing that someone else appeared to be sharing my sink space, which was okay until I had to clean my mirror for the third time, because apparently my husband brushes his teeth with a scrub brush. I've never seen this in person, but judging from the mess he leaves, it must be true.

Ben was the first to get sick, so by that time, I had completely forgotten about the Drano and had turned my attention to mounds and mounds of laundry and scrubbing carpets. Then, I had to clean my mirror again so I could see myself. That was my breaking point. In hindsight, that was the moment I should have just gotten in my trusty van and drove to Ye Olde Meijer for a bottle of Drano, but ohhh no. I had delusions of being Mrs. Fix It.

On a recent pinning binge on Pinterest, I saw that even the most stubborn of drains were no match for baking soda and vinegar. 

LIES. 

Or, maybe they were lies. It might have worked, had I waited the recommended amount of time, but I was desperate to stop sharing my space with Cujo, the rabid teeth brusher, so on to the next remedy. I went and got a flashlight and peered into the drain once the baking soda/vinegar mixture trickled away, then immediately wished I hadn't. The drain looked like it hadn't been cleaned since the Clinton Administration, all hairy and sludgy and disgusting. It smelled funny, and I think it growled at me. I stood there contemplating my next move and briefly wondered if I should perform surgery on the pipes under the sink, then quickly decided that would be the last resort since I am not actually a plumber. This realization should have really been where I quit. Luckily, for you, I did not. 

All of a sudden, I had a brilliant idea.

We recently got a new vacuum with lots of attachments that I barely understand. Standing over the clogged sink, I recalled that one of them was advertised as being able to unclog drains when used with the blower feature on the vacuum. "I've got you now!" I taunted the sink, then walked away to gather my supplies. Once I hooked everything up, I encountered my first problem. The sink stopper wouldn't come out. After consulting Google and using every good curse word my Momma taught me, I was able to remove it and get ready to bust a clog.

I stood there, vacuum hose in hand, pointed to the ceiling and fired up the machine to be darn sure I had hooked everything up correctly, because I was pretty sure the vacuum wasn't meant to suck out the insides of pipes. Everything seemed to be in good working order so I turned my attention to the sink. I started to put the attachment over the drain opening, then decided I should add some water to make sure it made a good seal. I probably should not have done that. I ran a good 3 or 4 inches of water into the sink, then I fired up the vacuum and started the hose toward the drain. The water that was getting blown toward me was clearly not enough of a deterrent because I just kept right on going. 

What happened next was traumatizing.

I managed to get the attachment underneath the water and sealed over the drain, then a torrent of water and black, smelly, hairy sludge that used to be inside the pipe started to spray EVERYWHERE.

All over the mirror. The walls. The ceiling. My hair, my face...

IN MY MOUTH. 

In my stunned state, it took a good 10-15 seconds for me to get the vacuum turned off

As I stood over the sink gagging and retching and rinsing my mouth, trying to figure out where in the hell all of that even came from because I had made an excellent seal over the drain, Michael appeared next to me trying to hide his laughter.

"You forgot to plug the overflow drain before you did that, didn't you?"

Yep. I sure did.

At least his sink drains well again.