My kitchen sink is plugged. Again.
I avoided the kitchen for a day or two because I knew Jamie would be over for a barbecue on Sunday and he had already said he’d fix my sink again if it needed fixing again.
He spent about two hours on it yesterday. First he did the vinegar and baking soda thing a bunch of times. Then he plunged it. Then he snaked it. Then he repeated these operations a few times. Finally he conceded defeat.
“I’ve done hundreds of these,” he said a little sadly, “and this is the first time I’ve failed.”
He was clearly experiencing a crisis of confidence, so I let him put my dining room table together. He accomplished this quickly and efficiently and to some extent it offset what the sink had done to him. (Not completely though – I caught him a few times going into the kitchen and just staring at the sink.)
I phoned Gus, my plumber friend. When I bought my house, he promised me free plumbing for the rest of my life.
“Gus!” I said.
“Zoom!” he said, “What’s up?”
“My sink’s blocked,” I said.
“Oh no,” he said, “I’m just leaving for Alberta.”
“Oh no,” I said, “What else is new?”
“I got shot,” he said.
“Oh no,” I said.
“Oh yeah,” he said, “with a 12-gauge shotgun, right in my shoulder as I was stepping out my back door.”
“Who shot you?” I asked.
“Some guy I know, but not very well,” he said, “I think he was after my pain meds.”
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yeah but I’ve got 200 fragments in my shoulder and the doctors aren’t going to take them out and it hurts like a sonofabitch.”
“That sucks,” I said, “Can you recommend a plumber?”
Gus gave me Gibby’s number and insisted I’d met him decades ago at the Elmdale Tavern, but I couldn’t remember.
“What’s new with you?” Gus asked.
“I just got stung by a wasp,” I said, “and it hurts like a sonofabitch.”
“Poor baby,” he said.
Normally I would feel bad about destroying the wasps’ home, but not this time. Live and let live, unless you sting me first without any provocation. Besides, they built their home in my barbecue, demonstrating a profound lack of foresight on their part.
I phoned Gibby this morning because I know better than to phone plumbers on Sunday. I left a message.
A couple of hours have gone by. Maybe Gibby’s on holidays. Maybe he got shot. Maybe he’s not taking new patients.
But I can’t live without my kitchen anymore, and it’s getting pretty ugly in there.
Can anyone recommend a good plumber in Ottawa?
Hey Zoom, let me know how Gibby works out, as I will need a plumber also. (I have a small leak in a drain)
We’ve taken the underside of ours apart once. We then had to buy a cou0ple of new pieces. It sure collects a lot of muck. Good luck.
Call your real estate agent and see if he can recommend someone in the neighbourhood.
The best for me is Cundall’s Plumbing, 744-1133. Ask for Marcel who is a prince! A neat freak and still a prince!
CCOC uses Darren at Regional Drain – 722-6741. Tell him you’re a friend of ours.
Sorry, can’t help with the plumber, but I can tell you what you can try when it’s plugged with grease. Take a small heater and plug it in next to the pipe. Wait until the grease is melted and flush system with really hot water. Works like a charm. This is also known as the desperately trying not to admit to landlord how stupid one was when one poured the stuff that looked like water in the hamburger pan into the sink manoeuvre.
Good luck!
PS: isn’t it time for a Duncan fix?
Thanks very much for those recommendations, I REALLY appreciate it. For some reason, the plumbers I left messages for yesterday never returned my calls. Today I’ll try Marcel and Darren.
Melinda – I’ll talk to Duncan about making an appearance.
How cool. Marcel is MY plumber.
Glad you are back Zoom!