I wasn’t lying when I told you that elves someone clogged my kitchen drain a couple of days ago. I could blame the Christmas cookies but that would just be wrong, so very wrong.

Anyways, last night, I had to call our plumber. Yes, we have a plumber, and no we aren’t those people that have crazy bowl movements, or throw Kleenex down the toilet. We are just blessed to live in a loft that has original plumbing from 1924.

Our building used to be an old garment factory so when they converted it to livable units back in 2006, they tried try to cut costs by doing a half ass job with the plumbing. Brilliant. Now, every three to four months on the dot we have to call, Jay, our plumber. Jay is a nice man from Jersey that has been a plumber for more than 20 years. Aren’t we lucky? I don’t think I could trust anyone else.

Well, Jay showed up in usual fashion, early, and with lots of buckets. I pointed him to the kitchen sink and gave him my speech on how I “baby” our drain, and this couldn’t possibly be my fault. He said, “Lauuuren.””Even if you baby your drain, it’s probably some knuckle head three units up throwing whole chickens down the gaaarrbage disposal, and thinking dat it’s okay.” I just laughed, and he got right to work.

Twenty minutes and loud revolting noises later, Jay popped his out of from under the sink and said, “Yeeeah, I can’t get dis clog.” I replied, “Do what?” He responded back sincerely, “I took da line down about 40 feet, and it looks like it’s baaacked up even further.” I about died. “Seriously?”, I said. “Serious, as a heart attack,” he replied.

We were both dumbfounded. Jay left without charging me, apologized again, and told me to have a nice evening. I stood in my kitchen staring at the sink shaking my head. WTF. Why does this crap have to happen? Especially since we are leaving for NYC on Friday. Did I forget to mention those details? Yup, we are heading to the Big Apple for a quick getaway.

Where was I….oh yeah, I immediately called my landlord, Marc, who lives in Austin and told him the situation. He agreed that this is more than likely a building issue since it has happened repeatedly, and that we need to contact the HOA. Great. I hate dislike HOA people. Marc fortunately said that he would handle the negotiations, thank goodness, but that I needed to call the HOA plumber guy. So, I did.

I called and actually got a hold of someone rather quickly. A nice lady with a Jersey accent answered the phone. No joke. Are all plumbers/plumber service people from Jersey? Is Jersey taking over the world? Is Snookie going to be our next president?

The pleasant Jersey lady informed me, “We can get da plumber out to your apartment between six and nine tomorrow evening.” I replied, “That would be fantastic.” She said, “Cull me back if you have any problems.””Will do, and thanks for your help!”


Tonight, I am packing for our trip and patiently waiting on a plumber. I wonder which one will be completed first?