View from the North 40: And drain-o was its name-o

In a world where men and women suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder from military and law enforcement service and unimaginable tragedies, I seem to have gotten PTSD from my kitchen drain being plugged.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but in my defense, that drain pipe was plugged for several months, and if you have never had that experience, then you cannot imagine the psychological damage a tragedy like this can cause.

For sure there is a way to explain why the drain remained plugged for about five months and how I ultimately, well, let’s say “fixed it,” but it’s not going to happen. First of all any attempt to explain the Universe’s twisted motivations and my own sketchy logic on the why of this would require volumes of writing and proper documentation, which is beyond the scope of a simple newspaper column.

And secondly, I legally cannot tell you how I “fixed it.” If I revealed plot details of this incident I would have to sue myself for leaking inside information on the next great dramatic/tragic-comedy/musical to hit Broadway. Yeah, I’m writing it myself — music, too. It’ll be a big deal. I’ll retain the movie rights. I’m sure Hollywood will come courtin’ me.

I do feel safe sharing this with you: If you ever want to become fully aware of just how much you use your kitchen sink, disconnect the sink’s drain pipes from whatever sewer system you use and drain the waste water into a five-gallon bucket that has to be carried outside to a safe distance from your home to be dumped.

You didn’t finish your morning coffee, juice, milk or alcoholic beverage? (I don’t judge.) You dump it out and rinse the glass. Rinse your breakfast dishes too. You just drained a pint to a quart of water into your bucket. What? You spilled a little food on the counter? By the time you wet your dishrag and then rinse it, you got yourself a gallon of water, maybe more, to be hauled out.

That is eight-plus pounds of fluid.

And if you had to run water until the hot stuff made its way from the water heater, you might as well pack that bucket outside and dump it before you forget it’s half full.

We’re just getting started on the day. It’s not just emptying glasses or rinsing dishes that fill that bucket: Eating canned fruits or vegetables? Drain them and rinse the sink. You cooked pasta? Drain it and rinse the sink.

Don’t get me started on the topic of meat.

Meat juices are a menace in a drain-less kitchen. They get on the counter, on your hands and in the sink. These things need hot soapy water before you can move on — and now that potential biohazard is polluting your bucket. It never ends.

You dropped a spoon, dripped some jelly, splashed food you were stirring — what do you do? Your favorite meal requires dirtying two bowls and three pans?

You need to make smart choices about your priorities.

Every drop of wash water has to be hauled outside — no matter the weather. It all has to be accounted for, or you have another mess to clean up.

Trust me, it doesn’t take long before you start second-guessing every choice you used to make so naturally in the kitchen. You reprioritize your menu choices. You make it sandwiches on paper plates. You weep, openly, at the sight of a mound of dishes.

Sometimes the only thing that keeps you from throwing the dirty dishes away is the thought that the full garbage can is heavier than the water bucket.

Even when the drain pipe is working again, you flinch when approaching the sink, you worry about rinsing anything, you get a nervous tick at the thought of dirtying more than one pot and one pan for a meal, you weep at the thought of having company.

In your nightmares everything has to be rinsed and it takes for-ev-er for the hot water to get to the kitchen. You dream of hiring a bucket brigade to empty the drain water for you because you forgot drain pipes even existed and wake up crying … and for just one second you panic at the thought that those tears have to be gathered up and hauled outside in a bucket.

(Sometimes life can feel like active duty combat. No kidding at [email protected].)