In the most recent installment of my not-suitable-for-mealtime series, I bring you this tale of Farmer H do-it-yourselfer shenanigans.
Farmer H is good with his hands. Not so good with reading instructions and manuals. If you need something fixed, he can do it. His way.
For a couple of years, I have been complaining that my kitchen sink does not drain properly. It has episodes of working a little while, then backing up. When this happens, water comes up in my companion sink, the one the dish drainer sits in. The timing of these incidents is suspect. They usually occur the day after Farmer H has helped me by rinsing out a pan.
Farmer H operates on his own timetable. He takes his meals when he is good and ready. Many a time the food awaits him on the stove. He is kind enough to put away any leftovers that he does not eat. It's the least he can do when not consuming the sustenance I provide until the un-cook-friendly hour of 8:30 p.m. I will admit to chastising him one time for leaving a crusty pan. So he has been on his best leftover behavior lately.
On New Year's day, I prepared a pan of blackeyed peas and bacon. For luck, you know. We will only be half lucky, because I did not serve any cabbage this year. I asked Farmer H not to run food down the kitchen sink. He has that habit. Like a garbage disposal might have been installed by the Garbage Disposal Fairy overnight. Our garbage disposals lay right outside the kitchen door, ever-ready to greedily consume any edibles that we have tired of. I had also set out some potato salad left from our Christmas gathering. "Please get rid of this. But if you rinse the container, don't run the water down the sink. You need to throw it off the porch." Farmer H grunted. That means he heard me and does not object.
Then next morning, both pan and plastic container were free of food particles. And my kitchen sink was lethargic. After a certain amount of water ran down the drain, it backed up on both sides. I interrogated Farmer H. "Did you run that rinse water down the sink? Because it's clogged again. I told you not to do that."
"Sure. Everything's always my fault. I didn't run it down the sink."
"Then how did you get those things so clean? I know you didn't swirl the water, pour it off the porch, swirl more water, pour it off the porch...There's no way you could have gotten that pan and tub so rinsed unless you ran it down the sink."
"I didn't. I poured it down the toilet."
That did not even deserve a rebuttal. I'm so sure Farmer H filled a saucepan and a quart container with water and carried them both to the bathroom and swirled the water until they were clean, then flushed that water. It would have been easier to walk back and forth to the back porch. Farmer H must have known I was on his trail. He said he would fix the sink that evening.
Upon further interrogation of Farmer H's apprentice accomplice, The Pony, after the alleged fixing, I discovered that he had NOT used a snake, poured in Draino, or cleaned out the trap. He had used a plunger.
"The POOPY BATHROOM plunger?"
"I didn't see any poop."
"Well, the only two plungers we have are in the bathrooms. And they're not new."
"All I know is, it was a plunger."
Farmer H denied it as well. "Yes, I used the plunger. There was not poop on there."
"That's what plungers are used for. Clearing poop. Don't tell me that you put a poopy plunger in my kitchen sink, where I wash the dishes we eat off of."
"It's fine. There was no poop."
"Then you won't mind it if I take a slice of bread, rub it all around the sink, and ask you to eat it?"
"Go ahead. I'll eat it."
"You think I won't? I'm going to get it right now."
"Well...if you toast it first."
"AHA! Gotcha. I am not about to toast a piece of bread to kill the poop germs. I've told you before not to use that plunger in my sink!"
I did not make Farmer H eat turds on toast. But he'd better think twice next time he gets himself in that predicament.