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    « September 2007 | Main | November 2007 »

    October 30, 2007

    I'm Mr. Plumbah—that's who.

    The sink was definitely clogged, of that there was no doubt. As the in-sink disposal tried to do its job thick plumes of water shot out in jets from the other basin.

    It's not unusual for our sink to back up, while the disposal is very good it sometimes deposits thick chunks of fibrous materials into the pipe, which gets stuck in the y-shaped connector. (We learned this the first time we peeled a dozen carrots into the sink). This was something different though, as the dual-sink action indicated that the clog was somewhere forward of the y-connector which joined the two drains together. This would mark the start of the second odd thing to happen in the kitchen this week.

    I despise getting under the sink and relieving the clogs, it's sort of a Greek tragedy version of a midwife's hell. Without fail I end up covered in long strands of carrot or celery, or worse. But I'm pretty good at it now, all I require is some dish gloves, a bucket, my drill and the wire snake accessory and I can usually clear the clog in a few gross minutes.

    This time it was not to be. The clog was very far the line, at some point after the pipe had already dropped to the sub-flooring. The snake has some issues getting down past the few turns in the line, and it wasn't pulling up anything appreciable. In order to test my progress I had disconnected just the disposal line, the top end of the "y" that connects the drains. This way I could snake then cover the opening with my rubber glove, turn on the water and see if the drain would flow. It would not.

    I turned online to see if there were any drain cleaners that work with PVC without rupturing them (there really aren't) and found out from Consumer Reports that in their test plunging worked as well or better than chemicals every time. The only problem here was that the open-end of the y-connector prevented the pipe from building up enough pressure to flush the plug.

    I combined a suggestion from Consumer Reports for sinks with drain overflows (plug them with wet cloths) and an ingenious Glad-family-of-products freezer bag to fix this. I cut a piece of cotton cloth, soaked in and plugged the hole, then covered that with the Ziplock bag, sealing it to the pipe with the lock ring that had been connecting the pipe joint. Now I had a nice plastic and cloth seal to keep water from pouring out.

    I grabbed the big powerful plunger we have (cleaning it off a lot with bleach) and went to town. One, two, three, four... no go. Sink still clogged. A dozen more times, nothing. Sweat began to drip from my brow and my arms got tired, but I was not going to have a plumber come out to charge me to do this same thing.

    Finally with a few dozen repeat forces of the plunger, the sink broke free, and the water rushed out of the sink. I shouted with pleasure, all manly-like and reached under the sink to disconnect my makeshift cap.

    Which is when I noticed that the cloth was gone. Vanished.

    What I think happened is that the cycling of the plunger forced the cloth to get sucked downstream, and the plunging shoved it down the pipe, against the clog and forced that out of the pipe. That's also what I hoped happened.

    At some point, there's going to be a very confused duck in the Hudson river, but at least he'll have his own bath towl.

    October 29, 2007

    A strange week in my kitchen, part one

    It's been a bit weird in the kitchen this week—we had a photo shoot on Thursday, which caused me to completely clean everything to a condition as spotless as I could possibly make it.

    On Friday, Abby and I decided to cook and make a nice romantic fire. This is the point at which I'll change the names to protect the innocent. Or the idiots, as the case may be.

    Spouse 1 begins to make preparations for a fire, placing nice amounts of newspaper, fire starter and nice dry logs; grabs match, lights fire. Spouse 2 walks over and peers into the fireplace over their shoulder.

    Spouse 1 - "Are you checking to see if I opened the flue?"

    Spouse 2 - "Uh huh."

    Spouse 1 - "Well, I did."

    This is the point at which smoke, in small and delicate curls begins to waft out of the fire place. There is a bit of a pause as we both look at each other. Then a longer pause as smoke begins to exit the mantle in thicker, less attractive waves. Spouse 2 then tries to reach the handle for the flue with a pair of fireplace tongs, as the metal armature is now being licked by the kiss of ever-growing flames.

    Spouse 1 - "Wait, is that the flue?"

    Spouse 2 - "Uh, yeah."

    Spouse 1 - "Then what's that thing?" (They point to the small vent hole on the side used to duct air into the fireplace and increase the burn rate of the materials therein. Spouse 2 explains purpose of that aperture while staring up at the rapidly-filling ceiling, smoke now billowing toward the smoke detector on the ceiling. Spouse 2 recalls that their neighbor is a fireman, and thinks about how really incredibly much they do not want to have to have their neighbor show up in a big red truck.

    Spouse 2 - "Go get a fan, really fast." Spouse 2 then grabs the ten-pound ABC-class fire extinguisher sitting next to the fire place, pulls the pin and (for what is not the first time in their life) extinguishes a fire gone just a bit out-of-control. The fire is immediately knocked out, as the mantle is suddenly covered in a mix of acrid fire retardant chemical. Spouse 1 arrives back in the room with a very large fan, and helps open all the windows in the house before the alarm goes off.

    Needless to say we didn't have quite the romantic meal in the kitchen (we ended up watching some of Heroes on TV) but we do now have a house that smells like a Germanic hunting lodge. A romantic Germanic hunting lodge.

    October 24, 2007

    One of my favorite photos ever.

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    A note to anyone in a flame war

    The other night I was riding my bike in New City, headed east minding my own business, blinking lights and headlight a blazing when a car (of course a large SUV) passing in the other direction slowed and the driver yelled "get off the road asshole."

    This made me more upset than the random comments I get while riding a bike tend to make me. I'm not sure why, perhaps because it was a vehicle passing in the opposite direction—there's some understandable stupidity from those who are passing a bike and take the moment of caution required as a reason to blame the cyclist for a terrible day—but when you're going on a part of the road I'm not even occupying, that's just not cool.

    I've lingered over the things I wish I'd said to him, something like "I can't get off the road, I'm in a rush to get home so that your mother can perform fellatio on me while your sister records the moment for posterity on my Canon G9—now with RAW shooting modes," but I demurred.

    Instead I went on fuming, my night pretty shot as I imagined myself riding up the the SUV (he was stuck at the light for quite some time) reaching in and hitting his face on the horn.

    Which brings me to my point.

    Yet again on our bike club's blog a flame war broke out over a comment read wrong. Once again it was the same old people doing the same mis-interpretaton of events. And once again it was caused by someone who didn't really think carefully about the way they were saying something.

    While I'm certainly guilty of this behavior—albeit mostly in email not on forums—I generally try to let them pass because I recognize that no one wins these kinds of conversations. Everyone gets hurt.

    It makes me wonder a bit about the sense of tolerance we used to have in this country, or at least we supposedly used to have. I'm not sure that owning another human being counts as tolerance, and we've been pretty guilty of doing some other beastly things over the years here. But this country was founded so that individuals could seek "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

    Okay, tying a flame war into a systemic system of injustice is a tad spurious, but I think they're linked. I think that we, as a race tend to be exclusionary and petty, and that the Internet—and SUV driving yelling-guys, tend to just be the visible manifestation of that, like so much flotsam and jetsam on an ocean of grumpy pissed off folks.

    October 21, 2007

    Arturo's has the best pizza anywhere

    Sure it is.


    Sure it is., originally uploaded by davidjschloss.

    October 19, 2007

    Chinese food carnage


    Chinese food carnage, originally uploaded by davidjschloss.

    Wo Hop baby. Nine people, twelve dishes. Extremely medioccre Chinese food in the coolest crappy restaurant anywhere. Not much makes me happier.

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    October 09, 2007

    Open daily?


    Open daily?, originally uploaded by davidjschloss.

    Really, I'm supposed to open this letter every day?

    New set of wheels


    New set of wheels, originally uploaded by davidjschloss.

    SANY0005.JPG

    October 08, 2007

    Life's lessons for today

    Things I learned today

    It's harder to kill a crippled mouse with a rock than you might think. Probably longer than the mouse thinks as well.

    A crippled garter snake can be killed by running over it, but it's very hard to line it up with your tires.

    Brain cancer crippled and then killed someone I worked with. Didn't need a rock or a car.

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