Okay…I know it’s a special day today, so I guess I have to write something occasion appropriate.
Something sweet, sentimental and possibly funny…possibly.
But how do you write something that reflects all of that about your yearly visit from the guy who snakes out your sewer line.
He comes every year, on February 14th…ever since I accidently flushed my heart shaped boxers down the toilet a dozen or so years ago...you know, when I still had some game.
Now, all I have is a game-like odor…plus a standing appointment for the Rooter guy to come flush out our pipes.
I know…it’s silly, but I actually look forward to his visit every year.
I even mark off the days on the Calendar, once January arrives.
What can I say, there’s just something captivatingly mysterious about the sound of that powerful rotor of his whirling all the way out to the street.
And then the free flowing rush of untapped water, now freed to run with the fishes…whatever the hell that means.
Don’t ask me…I just write it…I don’t explain it.
Of course none of that stacks up against the time, in late March, a few years back, when the power went off in one of those “rare” storms of the century, which rendered our electric sump pump impumpotent, which in turn rendered our entire basement under about 2 feet of water.
Well, actually, only the lower two feet of the basement was under two feet of water…the rest was up above.
But it’s an odd feeling to bring the recycling downstairs only to find your sneakers floating into the laundry room.
My sneakers usually hate the laundry room, ever since one of its laces got caught in the dryer.
The family of ducks that had somehow decided to make a home in our exercise room was nice too…as well as the fact that someone was actually using the exercise room for something other than watching TV, while folding laundry.
Okay, I made that part up.
Z walks on the treadmill in the exercise room almost every night during the winter… and folds the laundry at the same time, while watching TV.
Of course the ducks had other ideas while they were down there.
Apparently Ducks don’t like Jeopardy.
And I can see that.
Alex can be a little condescending when someone doesn’t answer a question correctly, and ducks don’t like that.
I think because they don’t know the correct answer to anything.
Because they’re ducks.
But Z didn’t mind.
At least as long as the treadmill was under water.
Although she did say the water made it easier on her knees.
But talk about big machines…we were talking about that, weren’t we…sort of?
This whole pack of guys…okay three…show up with these big water suckers and immediately proceeded to pump everything out the door….including the ducks.
And if you think the ducks had a problem with Trebeck, you haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen a duck pop out of the business side of a water sucking hose and wash out onto your neighbor’s driveway.
Then they set up and turn on a bunch of big old fans and dehumidifiers—the 3 guys, not the ducks— and before you know it, everything in your house is dry as a bone—including you who’s lost about 10 pounds of water weight (always a plus)—but your electricity bill is through the roof.
None of which has anything to do with the “specialness” and significance of this particular day.
Which reminds me…I better get out there and pick up some occasion appropriate items.
A card, some flowers, maybe even some candy.
One year I totally forgot…and boy was there hell to pay.
I thought the Rooter guy would never come back…..