Mansion Malfunctions

Whew! I have been slaving over a hot sink all day. And by that, I mean that I spent 30 minutes unclogging the kitchen sink with Drano. Actually, it took longer than that, because we had to drive to town for the Drano, and since we drove to town, I needed gas, and that mention of 'gas' must have sparked a connection with the kids, because they started hollering for fast food, and since they were getting something, I wasn't cooking lunch just for me, so there was another stop to make, and then once we got home, we committed an embarrassing trash dumpster faux pas, and...well...if you give HH an evening alone with the boys, you get a clogged sink.

I think it was graduation night that it happened. HH decided to take pity on me, and wash the pile of dishes that had been on the kitchen counter all week. Or else he ran out of eating utensils. HEY! If HH would put in that dishwasher that he promised me 10 years ago when he built the Mansion, maybe he wouldn't have to wash dishes once every couple of years. Anyhoo, ever since that good deed, my kitchen sink has drained veeerrrrrry slowly. I know it didn't happen all in one night, but I also know HH is the cause. If you ever saw him rinse his plate, you would know what I'm talkin' about. Green beans left? Rinse them into the sink. A couple spaghetti noodles? Sink. Hamburger crumbs from a homemade burrito? Sink. Lettuce leaves? Sink. Broccoli florets coated with cheese? Sink. Perhaps you get my drift. We don't have a garbage disposal. I've tried to explain that to Mr. Sink Builder. I pick out a multitude of wet food from the drainer thingy every time I go to wash the dishes. Garbage that won't pass through those four little slottish holey thingies. But I know he must have poked something down in there with a knife. I don't know why else the sink would stop up all at once. It's not like the kids are going to get near it. Not unless #1 son decides to drink from the faucet like it is his own personal drinking fountain. They certainly don't rinse plates, or put their hands anywhere near the sink. We told HH last night that the sink wouldn't drain. He nodded. And that was it.

HH was in a bad mood to start with. The toilet pinched his a$$. And not in a flirty way, either. At least that's the story I got from #1 son. "Dad said the toilet pinched his butt." Yeah. It got me, too. I wish he had warned me first. Again, I blame HH. When he built the Mansion, he put in three toilets. The one in the Nascar bathroom in the basement is a normal toilet. The other two are freakish long things. They are not round, they are oval. And they take a special kind of toilet seat. I don't know how much regular toilet seats cost, because I've never bought one. But these special toilet seats are $15. We have to replace them about every three years, because one side of them cracks. And if you sit your flabby butt on them, the crack pinches you when you get up. I suppose they are not made to take so much sitting. HH said he wanted this special kind of toilet because they are easier to pee in. He calls them 'urinal toilets', though I doubt that is their official name. And by 'easier' to pee in, I suppose HH means that he can sit down and shove his junk down in there and pee like a schoolgirl. Sorry for that visual. I know, there are some things you prefer not to have in your head. Gotcha!

Sooo...last night HH forgot to stop for a toilet seat on the way home from work, and had to drive to town. Never mind that he spent $28 of his cash budget at Lowe's. I checked the receipt, and the toilet seat was only $14.97. I have to monitor his spending on our cash budget, you know. I don't know what the other things were. It looked like latches and screws and stuff. For his MiniMansion, no doubt. But HH was not in a good mood when he returned with the toilet seat. #1 son told him the sink did not drain at all. HH hmpfed and went to bed. By this morning, the sink had drained. But one short run of water showed us it wasn't fixed.

We had not planned on going to town today, but there is another stack of dishes. Mainly from HH and #1 having a bowl of ice cream every night. So we got ready after the ER reruns on TBS, and hit the road. First stop was the Dollar Store, where we got Drano for $3 and change. Oh, and we bought a stash of $0.50 and $1 movie candy, so we don't have to pay $3.65 per box when we go see Evan Almighty. From there, we proceeded to Casey's for gas, which was a wasted trip because their pump wouldn't work right and kept telling me to "pay after fueling" which I planned to do, which is why I hit the "pay inside" button. But no. It wouldn't even let me squeeze the gas trigger thingy. So I threw up my arms after 5 minutes of trying, just to show the clerk inside that people piss me off, and drove a block to the old Citgo, which is now BP, with the gas cap dangling and everthing, because, hey, I was only going one block. Their pumps worked just fine, though the clerk was as unfriendly as a city librarian. We headed for Dairy Queen, so #1 could get the chicken strip meal and #2 could get a chocolate ice cream cone and a cheeseburger. Then I drove another block and sent #1 in to get me some hot & sour soup.

From there, we headed home for a stop at the mailbox. #2 got out to throw the stump from his cone into the creek ("I gave it to a school of small fish, Mom.") and #1 got out to let the mailbox give him the bird. Seriously. Every time we open the mailbox, a bird flies out. Not from inside the mailbox, but from behind it. We have a long wooden box that encloses about 10 mailboxes, and a bird has a nest behind our little compartment. It usually causes the boy to scream like a schoolgirl and flap his hands femininely about his head. He's getting used to it now, though, and is not quite so dramatic. He thumps the box on top to make the bird fly out before he leans his head down by the mailbox door.

When we got to the end of the driveway, #2 son announced, "I will bring the trash dumpster." Because Thursday is trash day, and #1 son brought it up to the end of the driveway last night, to avoid last week's 6:00 a.m. awakening because he had forgotten it. Poor #2. He's a bit small for his age. He struggled with that big green dumpster. He tried pushing it like #1 told him. That boy grabs it from behind and runs up the driveway like a hot dog vendor. I sighed, "My little pony is not nearly as good at this job as my workhorse." #1 snickered, because he loves any excuse to call #2 'my little pony', since the boy hates it so much. "Man! My little pony must be anemic or something. It's taking forever!" Again, #1 snickered. "What's anemia, Mom?" I told him it was a lack of red blood cells, so your body couldn't get as much oxygen, due to a lack of hemoglobin to carry it to the cells. "Oh. You mean 'himmaglobbin'. That's what Mr. Science Teacher calls it." Umm...no. But the point of this boring story is that when we got to the garage, I told #1 to get his trash out of the car and throw it in the dumpster. Because after #2 had pulled over in the grass to let us by, and we had sat 5 minutes in the garage listening to the radio, we heard the poor boy thump the dumpster against the garage wall where it belongs. #1 got out and took his trash. Then I heard a scream. "MOM! The dumpster is still full of trash." Hmmm...that explains why my little pony was so anemic. He was pushing the dumpster full of trash, not an empty dumpster, down the 1/8 mile gravel driveway. Poor little pony. I ordered him to help #1 take it back. Guess the trash guys are running late today.

Maybe their toilets pinched their a$es this morning. I hope they squealed like schoolgirls. There. I pulled off the 'schoolgirl trifecta'.

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Summer RV: Readin', Votin'

Let's not forget that Redneck Diva has hung up the new works of art at her summer home. These stories were assigned, people, and we worked hard. And the voting thingy works now, too. So if you haven't read the stories, or if you haven't voted, get on over there. It's the Summer of Art Appreciation, by cracky!