Grab a chair and a couple of root beers...

Our kitchen sink drain stopped working last Friday.

*grumbles*

The Husbandly One thought a steel wool pad that had accidently gone down the garbage disposal was the culprit. Oh, if only things were that easy! Well, my solutions didn't work, THO's solutions didn't work, so it was time to call a plumber. THO's attempts with a plumber's snake had proved there was a blockage, but it wasn't an SOS pad.

So, the plumber came yesterday. Gets his big, MOTORIZED snake and sends that into the pipe. It goes through the bend, goes down past the first turn, hits the second... and the cord starts wrapping around the plumber's big arm.

Nope, not a good sign.

He tried various angles, tried peering into the pipe, and then said, "Is this house post and beam?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well, that's good," though I can see he's not wildly enthusiastic about crawling under our house. Well, to tell you the truth, neither am I!

So, he crawls under, knocks around, and then... comes out, filthy and sweaty. And says the Words of Doom.

"You have a broken pipe."

*slumps*

And no, it's not the PVC pipe from our house. It's the ancient, cast iron pipe that was probaby laid back in, what, 1883? Or 1922. Or 1950, though I don't think they were still using cast iron for water pipes then, but who knows? Anyway, it has rusted through, and fallen in on itself, and is blocking out-going water from the kitchen sink. This means either involving the city and lots of digging, delays, and MONEY, not to mention dealing with the Good Old Boys at City Hall (I don't do so well with Good Old Boys)... or tying the line into our washing machine's drain, with some trenching under the house, and much less money.

Guess which option we chose?

This means washing dishes on the back porch for now. In a big wash-tub, you know, the kind your great-grandma did her laundry in?

Yay whoopee yay.

Oh, and I went to the dentist today to get my last crown put in, thought, "Great, I'm done until next year!"

Suuuuuure...

"Mrs. J, you'll need to come in again. One of your older fillings is crumbling and needs to be replaced."

O_O

"Um, can we put it off until next year? When our insurance starts over again??"

The assistant smiles sweetly. "Sure, if you don't mind having a root canal, as opposed to a filling."

*sigh*

Yeah. So, we're looking at a bill of between $700, and $1000 for the plumbing (yes, yes, I know that's actually pretty good. I know my parents paid twice that when they had a similar problem last year, and it went HIGHER becaues the city got involved), and then another $230 for my filling.

Ay-yi-yi!!!

Roller-coaster... off... now... please?

I'm back. One root canal, and one extraction later, Auntie is back and semi-coherent. Of course, I haven't had my pain medication yet, so... the jury is out on that one.

But I survived. Only had one dicey moment, because my mouth is so small, and the tooth they were extracting had bizarrely crooked roots that didn't want to let go, and for a couple of seconds there, I thought the dentist was going to put his knee on my chest and give it a good yank, but... then the roots let go and out it came!!

I found it incredibly funny that the dentist said, "Huzzah, it's out!"

Three hours, guys. Somebody pet me and tell me what a good girl I am!

I have deleted my journals on Greatestjournal, and moved my family journal to Insanejournal. If I had any doubts, today would have decided me, because when I logged into GJ, I found that I was down to one icon... which was nonexistant. So, bye-bye GJ!!

In other news, I went to the dentist today. The next two visits will pretty much clear me out of seeing the dentist except on an emergency basis for the next year, as I will total what is allowed for me. Yes, I'm a mom, and we didn't have decent dental insurance until recently, and everyone else came before me, because... that's what moms do.

Plus, I'm a big chicken when it comes to the dentist.

I had the Dentist From Hell when I was very small. My dad was working in the oil fields, and though he had medical insurance... he didn't have dental. So, when I got a huge, screaming cavity (and I have never eaten Tootsie Rolls since... that's been about forty years), my parents could only find one dentist willing to see me without insurance. And he didn't like kids. I was about four.

I remember lots and lot of pain, a LOT of blood, screaming, and having him tell me to stop being such a baby about it. I also remember watching my dad's fist connect with the dentist's jaw over my head. And an emergency room visit. For me. Because he cut a blood vessel in my mouth with his drill, which was why I was screaming.

Yeah, I have issues.

By the next year, though, Dad had come in out of the field, and started working in the office for the oil company, and he got better medical insurance, and he got really good dental insurance. So, my parents found a really good dentist, a small, gentle man who worked very hard to ease my fears, and reassure me that he would never hurt me intentionally, and would do everything he could to keep it from hurting. He even got me over my phobia about the drills.

So, while I am a huge, huge chicken about going to the dentist, I do go, and though I sometimes want to faint, or cry while I'm in the chair, I don't, and I stay there. I stay, and I also return for more treatment. I suffer major anxiety attacks while there, but I do it. Kudos to me.

This new dentist isn't so bad, though he does remind me uncomfortably of the dentists I saw in boot camp, most of whom are very no nonsense, and don't put up with a lot, and aren't very patient. And... he's big. He's ginormous. He could hold me down with one big hand planted in my chest, and all I would be able to do is squirm and whimper.

Fortunately, he's a very nice guy, if a bit dry. And his assistant is the sort of person who tells you how wonderfully you're doing, and holds your hand when you're taking slow deep breaths and trying not to cry.

Yes, I am a complete and total wuss. At least, when I'm sitting in the dentist's chair.

I've got a couple of cracked molars that don't hurt... yet. But they will. Soon. So it was best to get them taken care of BEFORE they start hurting. Plus, y'all know I have a stupidly high pain threshold, so... it probably does hurt, but... I haven't noticed it yet.

I just wish the Husbandly One could take off and hold my hand while I'm going through it. Or at least sit out in the waiting room. That would be comforting.

Well, I have errands to run. I hope y'all are all having a considerably better day than I am. Oh, did I mention my internet is being... balky? And I'm trying to get used to a new keyboard? It's very stiff, and pokey, and driving me nuts. Anyways, later, y'all!