One Angry Monkey

If you’re not a plumber but think you might like to be one, this cautionary tale is for you. Plumbing isn’t all glamour, “tradies’ crack” and fixing taps for lonely housewives. Sometimes the job can get unpleasant. Like today, for example.

As it turned out, even the “mad plunging skillz” of the Man of the House were insufficient for the blockage in our pipes. To my surprise (but not the Matriarch whose area of expertise is “poos and wees and water”) the problem wasn’t caused by my chronic intestinal distress. No, it was caused by the trees around us. Damn you, Nature, you rooted my piping.

That’s a specialty which requires special tools, not just a giant suction cup and a bit of elbow grease. Fortunately our property is managed by the Best Agent Ever. BAE, bless her massively tall and kind of scary heart, sent out a pair of specialists just as quick as she could. Why bless her heart? They were the prettiest pair of specialists I ever did see.

*ahem*

They took their cutter around the back and got to work. This is where the chronic intestinal distress really came into its own. I can’t imagine anyone’s waste water smells appetising but the odour filtering in through the back door (open because they needed a power point) was… Let’s call it educational.

Remember that next time you’re thinking you’ve got a shitty job.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 10th, 2008 at 4:27 pm and is filed under Journal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.