After a successful day of sprinkler-ing the yard, I realized I hadn’t eaten much other than an orange and a Frappuchino.  Not exactly a healthy way to spend the day.  By 3:30pm, we were tired, a bit wind burned and really sore.  Rob worked and worked and worked yesterday.  So when my head started to hurt again after my parents left, it was time for a shower and to lay down.  The shower didn’t want to cooperate. By the time I was finished, there was about a foot of water in the tub. 

I laid down, took some meds and prayed the throbbing would go away.  It didn’t and neither did the water in the tub.  By 6:30, Rob had started to unwind playing video games and I was waking up from a nap.  But the water?  It stayed put.  I wandered into the bathroom and noticed it hadn’t gone anywhere.

“Babe?  There’s still water in the bathtub!”  When in doubt, call for help. With the help of our trusty plunger, we tried and tried and tried to get the water to drain.  But Bernard was firmly ensconsed in the drain and unlike Eugene, he wasn’t going anywhere without a fight.

We consulted to great god Google but this time, he failed us.  Without a snake or chemicals to pour down the drain, the plunger was as good as it was going to get.  So we pulled out the big guns and called my dad.  Unfortunately, my dad was in the middle of their Bible study group and couldn’t come over.  It would have to wait until the morning.  Which would mean no showers.  Nice.

We ate dinner and still my head throbbed.  Another Zomig and praying that the burning light wouldn’t sear my retinas.  We were both so exhausted and yet, Bernard mocked us.  More plunging after dinner.  More frustration.  More desperation and finally, I asked Rob to run to the store to buy something for the drain.  When brute force won’t cut it, use caustic chemicals. Bernard would die tonight.

Rob returned from the store, Liquid Plumr in hand.  The bailing out the bathtub began, one red plastic cup at a time, and I pretended my stomach wasn’t rolling in the process.  At least the water was soapy and not full of.. well, you get the idea.  Rob was beyond exasperated at this point and while I’d hit the wall about 4pm, he was running into it full bore in the middle of the biggest battle of the day, Bernard. 

The bathtub, now empty, was ready for chemical intervention.  I hoped this would work because honestly, we can’t afford to pay a plumber right now. 

“How much do we pour in?”

“2 cups.”

“How do you know how much 2 cups is?”

“We are not using measuring cups.”

Sigh. 

Glug, glug.

“Think that’s enough?”

“Let’s wait a few minutes and see if it goes down there.”

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. I was getting restless and the light from the bathroom hurt my eyes.

“Let’s put some more down there just to be sure we did enough.”

“I need to brush my teeth.  It’s almost bedtime.” 

“I’m gonna go get your lunch ready.  This day will not end.”

A mouth full of foam.  Head pounding.  The dread that tomorrow there will be.. NO SHOWER at 5:30am.  A glance over to the bathtub.

“BABE!”

Toothpaste foam flying.

“What?”

“Ding dong, the witch is dead.”

“No way.”

“Yes!”

And so it was.  There was no triumphant waving of Bernard on a stick, as we had done with Eugene.  No body to quietly bury in the backyard.  Just the calm rushing of water down clear pipes, into the oblivion of the maze of sewer pipes below the city.

  (In order to protect the innocent, we’ve used an artist’s rendering of Bernard.  His likeness is not able to be photographed.)

Farewell, Bernard, Evil Twin of Eugene.  We barely knew ye, and yet how we loathed thee.  May you never return.