I Am Miss Fix-It

So last night I proved to the world that I can fix anything. Well, okay. Not really anything. But pretty damn near close.

First there was the clogged toilet. We won’t go into how it got into such a predicament because I am a lady, and ladies don’t shit bricks large enough to clog toilets. But for whatever reason, it was clogged. And this wasn’t your average too-much-tp-for-the-smallish toilet drain clog – this was an actual CLOG. Where no matter what, the toilet will not swallow what was put into its bowl.

All I can say is thank God for the Master Plunger. It, and several dirty plunges freed up the nastiness that was stuck inside.

Barf, I know.

Then we have the table. The Table. I say it as if it were some really challenging fixing job. You see we bought this table last year from a guy in the building who was being shipped off to California by his employer. He was a light traveler and needed to unload his things before the move. We paid him forty bucks for a table that looked like it had never been used. It’s not an exciting table. Its just a plain old square table from Ikea, around 36″ on each side, with four small drawers on one end, and two large drawers on the opposite end, making it impossible to place it in a corner.

The table wobbled. The whole time we had it in our old place, we had to constantly make sure the legs were straight and not pushed in or pulled out more than was natural. Yeah, it was only forty bucks, but it wasn’t very sturdy.

To move it here, I had to take it apart. And then when my pretty new computer showed up yesterday, I decided it was time to put mister table back together. When we bought the table, it came with a baggie of extra parts. I figured Ikea gave some replacement pieces with the product, just in case. The guy even saved us the directions, not that they were easy to follow. And that lack of understanding probably led to the wobbly-leg situation. Those extra pieces weren’t extra at all. They were pieces used to stabilize those damn legs.

So I spend an hour putting it back together and *poof*! It no longer wobbles. This is the best table ever. In fact, I’m inclined to jump on top of it and do a table dance for the neighbors.

Too bad that nice new cpu is sitting on it. Wouldn’t want to break the table and send my new computer crashing to the ground.

The garbage disposal hadn’t worked for days. Things weren’t sounding good, and I’ve learned that if you leave it on for too long, when it’s stuggling to turn, a funny burning smell comes out of the motor. That’s when the reset button comes in handy.

The little blades inside wouldn’t turn, and I couldn’t figure out why. I counted all the forks, knives, and spoons. All were accounted for. We hadn’t had anything with bones lately. I was stumped, and the little hex wrench that comes with the disposal was probably locked up in a maintenance closet somewhere on the property. I did was no self-respecting Miss Fix-It type would do – I put my hand down the drain.

Keep in mind, this was the same day I fixed the poopie toilet.

Rice was in there. I could feel it mushing against the sides of the area where food collects. I got the little blades to spin, and their parts were swiveling well on the connector screws that held them in place. But I couldn’t get the entire mechanism to budge. At first I thought, “Well maybe they don’t move.” And then I wised up and realized it would have to move to be able to crunch up all those leftover scraps. Only small small holes lead down the drain, behind the blades, so I was sure there was no hidden spoon that had gone unmissed in the head count earlier.

And then I decided to get tough. I reminded myself: “You fixed the poop toilet today. You built a table, better than the guy you bought it from. YOU CAN FIX THIS DRAIN!” So I pushed harder. It moved. I pushed again, and it moved a little more. Shawn overheard the moving motor parts and told me to get my hand out of the garbage disposal. I unplugged it and told him I’d be fine.

I pushed even harder with a new confidence that one gains when unplugging the appliance that could potentially maul my piano hands to pieces. (No, I still don’t play the piano.) Finally I got the thing to move freely. I plugged it back in and *BAM* I’m Super Fix-It Girl.

Still with two complete hands.

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