Adventures in Plumbing

We take the modern conveniences of indoor plumbing for granted. In fact, next to electricity, we scarcely give it a thought. Unless we are on a rugged camping trip, we expect hot and cold water, drains that drain and a toilet that flushes whenever we need it.

We have all experienced that foolish feeling when trying to flick on the lights, even though we are aware that there is a power outage. It’s just automatic. We don’t care why it works or how it works or where it came from. We just use it. Period.

This morning, the strangest thing happened as I was getting ready for work. The lid from a small plastic bottle of lotion flew out of my hands and landed right in the drain of my bathroom sink. It landed top side up, just to make it more interesting. It was a perfect fit. It completely plugged the sink. I stared at it, dumbfounded. What are the odds?

I had visions of my bathroom sink being an attraction at the carnival and me shouting: “Get the cap into the drain; win a stuffed animal; 3 tries for $1” I don’t think anyone could do it even if they tried. But here was the lid, finding its’ way into the drain without any help. There must have been some gremlins at work, or that cap had serious suicidal tendencies.

I brushed my teeth in the guest bathroom, while thinking of ways to dislodge the cap. I thought about it all day. I talked about it to co-workers and patients. I was obsessed. That cap became Moby Dick to my Captain Ahab.

First I tried wedging two slim steak knives on either side and lifting up, but the knives kept slipping. Then I remembered “Red Green” and his Duct Tape. I attached tape to the lid and pulled up. No luck. It did not have a large enough surface area to adhere properly.

Then my vacuum cleaner was brought out. Let it be known that my vacuum and I have a hide and seek policy. It hides and I try not to seek it. (I hate vacuuming). But this was an emergency. I placed the hose above the cap and turned on the motor. It sucked and strained. I changed attachments and tried again. The cap rose slightly but sank back down as soon as I removed the hose. The toilet plunger had the same result.

I tried using a corkscrew, but the cap was made of hard plastic and not as easily penetrated as a wine cork.

Next came a manual drill, a relic from my dad’s wood shop. I held it upright, turning the knob as the bit rotated into the cap. But the cap had other plans. It turned with the bit and refused to cooperate. I could feel the frustration building.

Calling a plumber was always an option, but it was the weekend and the cost was a deterrent. That and the fact that I really wanted to do it myself. I wanted, no needed to prove to myself that I can and I shall prevail over that cap.

In the midst of all this bravado, the cap was still embedded in the sink, quietly taunting me, firm, resolute, impenetrable. I imagined smashing it to bits, but there was a possibility of damaging the sink so I resisted.

I felt like Scarlet O’Hara in that scene where she raised her arm up in the air, vowing never to be hungry again. Only in my reality, the foe was not the Union Army. It was a small white plastic cap, mocking me in it’s refusal to budge. But I was determined.  I would not be defeated! I would not give up!

It was time to bring out the big guns: glue gun that is. I melted some glue onto a circular piece of wood ½” in diameter and attached it to the cap. I burned my fingertips on the hot glue and silken strands cascaded all over the sink like spider’s webs. I waited for the glue to harden, eyes gleaming, counting the minutes in breathless anticipation. My victory was near. Or so I thought. The elusive lid must have been wet or oily since the glue failed to stick. Drat!

The fates move in mysterious ways. I was in the process of decorating our Lab-X Ray department for Christmas and while searching for supplies on my workbench, my eyes fell upon an old soldering gun. I used that tool to melt holes into plastic pots for additional air circulation for growing orchids. In a flash of inspiration, I decided to melt a hole into that cap and then use a crochet hook to pull it up.

A little voice inside my head said: “I’ll get you my pretty sink; and your little cap too!” I wondered when I turned into the Wicked Witch of the West but no matter. There was a battle to be waged!

I heated up the tool and easily melted a hole into the cap. Then with my crochet hooks spread out like surgeon’s tools, I selected the proper size. Into the opening it went and up popped the cap. The entire process took 5 minutes. Everything is easy when you know how.

Success at last! The drain was free! I danced around the bathroom, cap in hand like Gollum when he found the Ring.

The lessons to be learned from this are as follows:

1.Never give up when you have a goal in mind.

2. Conventional problems can be solved in unconventional ways.

3. Avoid little bottles with plastic caps unless you have extraction tools.

And in conclusion: Duct Tape may be the handyman’s secret weapon, but a middle aged woman with a crochet hook can conquer the world!