Roto rooter that’s the name, flush your troubles down the drain

Given 20/20 foresight and 20/20 hindsight I’m pretty fucking A-Okay with how my brain works. Sure, I’d like to try a fancier model with a dashboard like a leer jet or a Maserati, but those things crash as much as Cessna’s and gremlins. I might have crashed my brain a time or two, bit of bondo here and there and it’s once more into the breach.

Oh, yeah, I was prompted by something. I had one of those pithy insight thingys whilst not really watching something (I don’t remember what, I wasn’t really watching it) about, I’m taking a wild guess here, the way, we, that’d be us Homo Erecti, view the roller coaster course of our own little lives in the co9ntext of the roller coaster course of our own little history. Yeah, fuck you, if I could get more specific than that I would be actively being more specific.

Instead I took a very quick shower, that is wiping and soaping all the bits that need wiping and soaping and getting out before water spilled over the gap (handicap shower, long story, plugged drain, short story) Dressed in my finest “I’ve got me bits soaped Thursday go to hardware” cut offs and T (something vaguely unsettling about a dog pushing 60 looking too causal on a summers morning, at least unsettling is the look I try to cultivate) and headed down to ACE hardware. Oh, Shit, quick tangent. The four corners of the sleepy little rural-ish town of Okemos Michigan were once the center of commerce, sort of. There was an ace hardware store there that predated my time on this vale of tears. You could go in and ask for that doo-hickey that holds your thingy-ma-bob onto your root cellar, and any one who worked there would show you three options, ask you and easy question, give you the right doo-hickey and tell you how to attach it. They shut down last year. I went to the newfangled ACE in Frandor, an outdoor mall in a place with at least 4 months of snow a year.

So, I got a small router and some drain-o and have been fucking with my bathtub drain all morning. I really don’t want to call a plumber. I hate plumbers. Not the way I hate dentists. I hate dentists for what they do, not who they are. Often I hate plumbers like I hate used car salesmen, what they do attracts a sort of who they are to the field. Though I’ve known more honest plumbers. Still, a plumber has you over a barrel, you don’t NEED a car, there’s only so many times you can run up to MacDonald’s in a bathrobe before you are banned.  Yeah, I’m not kidding. In felony flats I did that more than once. Sometimes I waited in line with my neighbors. We’d discuss other local restrooms for there My-Bathroom-is-flooded-friendliness.

I’d also feel obliged to make things look like I’m not squatting here. I’m hoping my router and draino will do the trick, like, the third time.

A quick plug, perhaps premature, for Zenni and Payne, online prescription eyeglass places; both are quicker than shit. The progressive transitions from Payne are coming today, less than a week, from Payne. Zenni, less than a week, tomorrow, not transition but like 1.67 digital progressives. If they are done right they are both one fifth what brick and mortar stores cost and there is no love lost between me and corporate eyeglass business (there is no mom and pop eyeglass place locally, well, there’s one, I am not there demographic at all, and they are not mine, and I’m surprised we didn’t fight).