Of course, it had to happen on the Thanksgiving weekend — the kitchen sink backed up. There were children, dogs, guests, pots and pans, dirty plates, cups, cutlery, mugs and everything but the kitchen sink.

I don’t know much about plumbing, but I know you can’t find a plumber on a long weekend. So, I reached under the sink and pulled out my plunger. Then I cleared the sink — a double sink — and started plunging.

And the first thing I learned was something I should have known: when you plunge a double sink, a huge gout of filthy water shoots up through the second drain and spews over the kitchen floor, soaking the dogs, the children, the guests — and me.

I had someone hold an inverted cereal bowl over the second drain, and I resumed plunging. This resulted in much gurgling and a minor reduction of the water level. But stronger action was needed.

We sent one guest off to the closest hardware store — a round trip of more than 30 kilometres, as we are deep in the country. He returned with a vat of plumber’s helper: a highly corrosive drain cleaner guaranteed to blast out the most stubborn drain.

I poured it into the sink and waited for the standing water to gurgle away. Nothing happened except the stainless steel sink was now no longer quite so stainless. It was time to resume plunging; it was also time for the rubber gloves and for clearing out the dogs and children. Of course, nothing happened except the water level went down a few inches and bubbled menacingly.

What next? Someone suggested an old folk remedy — baking soda and vinegar. Why not? We added this to the mix and a noxious cloud arose over the sink. Dogs and children were sent outside and I went back to plunging. No luck, meaning it was time for the drain snake.

The snake, as anyone who owns a kitchen must know, is a long, thin wire that you feed into the drain, then wind with a handle to clear any blockage. The theory is good, but the snake doesn’t fit down a kitchen drain; so those of us who were left (only two by this time, as everyone else had wisely gone to the local fair) went down to the basement.

There is a cleanout on the line that runs to the septic, and here we could remove a cap and feed in the snake. Again, a good theory if you don’t mind being drenched with a caustic brew when you remove the cap. (I let someone else do that while I held a bucket.) We inserted the snake, twisted with all our might, put the cap back on, went upstairs and ran water into the now empty sink. It filled up. I plunged. The level sank an inch or two. What next?

A longer snake. But by then the local hardware had closed, so someone (not me!) made a 65-kilometre round trip to the nearest large town and returned with an eight-metre drain snake. The ultimate weapon.

Back we went to the basement. Off came the cleanout cap, out came the dirty water and in went the drain snake. The twisting was repeated, the snake extricated, the cap put on again and upstairs we went. Yes, when we ran the water, the sink was still plugged — but not as badly.

That night, we ate our turkey from paper plates, but we still washed dishes (and dishes there were!) outside in an old plastic box. Just like the people who settled this area 180 years ago, except for the plastic.

We spent the entire long weekend sinkless. On Tuesday, we called the plumber. He has seen this problem before. Indeed, he has seen it in our kitchen. He went straight to the basement, studied the drain, picked a likely spot, took his hacksaw and handed me a pail. “The dirty water will come out this end,” he said as he cut through.

Dirty water did come out, but from the other end, soaking me instead of the pail.

But, guess what? The kitchen sink now drains wonderfully, and my shirt and jeans are on the compost heap.

I trust you had a good Thanksgiving. IE

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