Drano and a happy morning to you

You know today will be bringing a few challenges your way when you are taking your normal morning shower only to realize that a puddle is forming around your feet and ankles while you stand there covered in soap and shampoo. Nice.

The first thing you try is rinsing your foot around the top of the drain to see if a pesky hair wad is globbed up to block the drain. Alas, it was not hair ball causing the drama. Oh no happy campers! That would be way too easy.

Next, you hold off on the shower water figuring the combination of the rinse cycle on the washer and the shower is overwhelming the pipes. Nope, not that either.

Then, I tried to create a suction by blocking the drain with my foot to see if some kind of vacuum would form so that when I removed my foot it would miraculously drain all the soapy water away.

That didn't work either, dang it!

So I was left with the inescapable conclusion that happens every single spring... the tree roots in the front yard had once again invaded the pipes in search of fertilizing water from our wastewater pipe that leads to the sewer in our ditch. Woo hoo. I love it. In that way that I mean NOT.

Being a resourceful gal, I hunted down the Drano. Of course, I did wait until I was dressed to do so because frankly the very idea of prancing through the house on slippery tile while dripping wet and buck nekkid was just not something I was willing to countenance. Low they may be, but I do have my standards. Plus the blinds were up...

Finding the appropriate container in the cabinet beneath the sink in the main hallway bath, I poured a generous cupful of the miracle pipe cleaner down the shower drain and the rest of the bottle into the toilet. Now I am playing the waiting game until it is time to douse the drain with hot water in the hopes that the acid in the drain cleaner will eat up the blockage but not my pipes. It's like being in final Jeopardy, but with less glamorous prizes.

I'm not sure I hold out a lot of hope as the last time this happened I was forced to call the nice but expensive Roto-Rooter dude to come with his fancy truck and grind the blockage to bits. That was helpful but sure made the bank balance pitiful. Shouldn't someone be willing to accept payment rendered in sincere gratitude? Reckon not...

Is it possible to pray over your drains? I don't say that in jest as we are told to cry over our families, our flocks, our herds and to cry against the devil. While I am not claiming wastewater pipes as cattle or flocks of any kind, I would certainly say that there is something devilish in having a clog that makes you feel like you are going to drown in soapy water. For the record, I am not a fan of drowning. Plus the epitaph would be most unflattering... "Suds to death in what was evidently the prime of her life".

Hmm. I shall have to ponder this sudsy conundrum.

In the meantime, liquid chores are waiting for resolution of the problem before being pursued. I can't imagine what kind of backup another load of laundry would bring to my drain system! And I live in fear of a toilet overflow - mostly because they are plain gross and cleaning them up is no picnic. That and I am secretly afraid of the toilet plunger...

So I wait on the magic promised on every bottle of Drano. That it will fulfill the intent of its inventors and rid me of the sinister clog that has rendered my day at a standstill until such time as the clog either dissolves through the might of chemical intervention or it is eaten up by the invading and hungry tree roots that sneak their tendrils through and into my pipes.

It does make one reconsider the idea of an open sewer system but certainly not the stench from one. At least in an open system you can see what the problem is and rectify it speedily. But the overpowering scent would be an eye watering, nose burning experience indeed. I do not envy the Romans on that account. Ew!

I well remember the halcyon days of youth as we would drive by the "poop factory" where our city's modern municipal water supply was allegedly cleaned. They had settling ponds where the solid materials would literally settle out into concrete holding areas and the water would be drained out and chemically cleaned and reinserted into the drinking supply. It was a nasty smelling place. Just what they did with that sewage slime and chunks was beyond my kin. I am convinced they just chucked it into the river. After a school tour of the facility, I was almost ready to give up drinking water entirely until Momma pointed out that the milk I was drinking was from cows that pee and poop in their drinking water all the time. Plus she mentioned something about dying from lack of water that sort of derailed my erstwhile plans of becoming an H20 teetotaler. Oh the price we pay for knowledge!

Now I understand fully that there are challenges in every life. I am not being made to chop wood every day, I seldom haul water and it has been decades since I bathed in a washtub on the back porch at my grandparents house in Sylacauga. I even doubt that the back porch (or the house for that matter!) is still there anyway.

But dang it, when you step into the bath in an allegedly modern home with connections to that great sanitary sewer system lauded in story and song (okay, so I exaggerate), you don't expect to be ankle deep in sudsy water that should have just drained away. Yes, I am spoiled. Spoiled rotten.

At any rate, it is time to make some hot water to pour down the offending drain and see what happens. I'm just hoping to see some positive movement. If not, don't be surprised to see me, my slippers, my robe, my towels and my Alabama elephant loofah ringing your doorbell. I will be conducting an informal test of YOUR water system's drain capabilities. And if it is satisfactory, I may well be a guest each morning for a quick rinse until this temporary crisis is over.

Happy towels to you until we rinse again!

P.S. In the interest of full disclosure, The Drano and hot water treatment worked! Yeah me!

Fog, cold and Jared

Woke up feeling cold and looked out to see a nice blanket of fog enveloping the area.  Cold, wet fog.  Not my favorite thing.  It definitely won't be added to the verses of the Julie Andrews song about those things considered to be favorites.

Jared seemed happy to be going back to school today.  Only seven more school days left for the handsome prince and then, barring a surprise from the Birdie Thornton Center, Jared will be home with me 24/7.  I'll have to figure out how to do outdoor exercises with him.  Fortunately, there are sidewalks in a lot of the places I walk, so I should be able to push Jared in his wheelchair to get some outside mileage done in due season.

Today we wouldn't have gone out anyway at least not in the morning with the fog being so overwhelmingly thick and cold.  People do not pay enough attention in the fog and I'd hate to become a bump in the road for someone who was careless.  Too much risk for Jared to try it.

I'm hoping to have Rick get him up into his wheelchair each morning with the lift sling beneath Jared so that I can get in my exercise and help Jared with some morning routine work at his desk. It will be a change for both of us indeed.

There are concerns for me as I worry about being enough for him. Strong enough, able enough and smart enough to encourage him to reach for his potential. I worry about having the energy to help Jared focus without the intensity of his school schedule to help him cope with the long hours in the day that need to be filled.

Truly, I don't know how all of this will play out.

But I know that I love Jared and will try to help him become and grow and develop as best as I can.

In his bag of diapers sent to the school today was a note asking for his absence to be excused. It won't likely be accepted and we will likely receive another notice of truancy for him in the mail. Who cares? He is over 21 years old and there really isn't anything they can do about it that will make a difference for him if they send us to court.

I'll just bring him along and ask them how they might consider offering Jared the best possible circumstances that life can bring to him in his limited condition. I'd be delighted to hear their responses because likely none of them have had to even give a moments pause to how they would function for and in behalf of a loved one who is so sharply constrained by mortal strictures as to be totally dependent on everyone else for the care and upkeep needed.

Hopefully, we can end this last seven days of his academic career without too many tears and difficulties.

All I know is that I want Jared to be happy at home or, in the event there is an opening at Birdie Thornton, for him to enjoy his time there.

The "ick" factor

Sometimes, things happen around me that are baffling beyond comprehension.

And sometimes those things make me sick to my stomach. They possess the "ick" factor.

We had stopped in some nameless hamlet to take care of business and clean off the windshield. We also wanted to give Jared a break and let him stretch out a bit. Riding along for hours at a time isn't too fun for him and truthfully, when your left butt cheek has become numb, it's time to get up and stretch out despite the miles that lay ahead on the drive.

Pulling into this pit stop, we were careful to align the car with a desolate area so that if a diaper change were necessary for Jared, he wouldn't be exposed to the prying eyes of the curious and the profane.

Rick gave me the go ahead to visit the restrooms first. I hustled inside knowing that both time and urge were ticking against me and took the first clean and likely stall for the appointed activity.

I was thankful for indoor plumbing as the outside temperature in that town was a balmy 51 degrees.

When I finished up, I noticed a well dressed woman departing her stall ahead of me. She had a very expensive outfit on, a pricey purse and a complete lack of hygiene. She did NOT stop to wash her hands.

Talk about the "ick" factor!! GROSS!!

Now everything in the bathroom had become suspect for potty germs!

Isn't that the first thing you get taught as a small child while potty training - always - ALWAYS - wash your hands when you get done?

When I washed and dried my hands, I noticed there was NO paper towel holder anywhere. And since I had used the turbo dryer for my hands, I was left to open the door with the shirt tail of my t-shirt. I will NOT open the door with the lingering remnants of potty hands on the handle!

That is nasty beyond belief.

Oh my goodness at the images conjured up by the folks who never learned to wash after going potty!!

The "ick" factor.

No matter how well turned out you may appear to be, if you have no decent manners it can dull the image considerably.