July 1st. Already, I hear fireworks in the evenings, the odd pop-crack of premature celebration. Independence day is on the horizon. Despite the heat, so heavy, so pervasive, there's a sense of recognition, of excitement at the thought. Independence day. Fireworks. Sparklers. I am too old for both of them. And yet...independence day. The very thought makes me want to stand up and do something bold, something daring. After all, I am a young (relatively) American woman. Good job. Good education. I can do anything.
Except fix a garbage disposal. Yeah, that's definitely enough to kill the burst of independent pride. A muggy damp sink, swirling gray water full of...stuff. That dank, sour smell.
It is at times like these that I envy my married counterparts. After all, isn't plumbing the guy's domain? The stopped up toilets, jammed disposals, malfunctioning whatsits hidden behind various cabinet doors? If that seems a little antiquated, I'm sorry. Truth be told, I'd gladly foist the task off onto any capable person, man or woman, willing to work for free. My sink is an equal opportunity employer. But, given my own reticence, I suspect only the bonds of matrimony could inspire anyone - male or female - to voluntarily stick their arm into the stink.
In the wake of that lovely discovery, writing has taken a momentary backseat. After all, I had to try to fix it. Independence day is coming, my friends! Was I going to admit defeat? Was I going to back down before the great swirling stink? Well, as a plumber-husband hasn't spontaneously popped out of the void, no, I suppose not.
I tried all the quick fixes I knew, stuck broom handle, then hand into the yick, pressed the reset button, bought an allen wrench. Really, it shouldn't be that hard to locate an allen wrench in a Home Depot. And if it hadn't been ten minutes to store closing, I might have been a little more miffed with the lackluster customer service. But, as a former retail worker, I hated me a little. So no bigs. They get a pass. Yes, I'm skimming. No one wants to hear the down and dirty of sink maintenance.
Long story short? I got the water to drain but that's it. The disposal is on strike.
What does all this mean? I have no clue. Only that I started the day with all sorts of ideas regarding its close. I would launch my canoe into the lake of Camp Nano. I would outline a series of very small, very do-able Row80 goals. I would try to level in Magic Spreadsheet.
Now I'm struggling to get the bare minimum in. My arm still stinks of disposal despite multiple washes and I want to go to bed. But this is important. I will get it done.
250 words a day, one submission to a magazine (or other publication per month), twice weekly blogs. Oh yeah, and a garbage disposal. No deus ex machina a la the magical plumber-husband. Just me and my tools and the internet. Wish me luck people!