We just spent the last half hour trying to rescue a comb that had been inadvertently flushed down the toilet. It was not one of my brightest moments. You would think that one of our two sweet, mischievous toddlers would be behind this whole shenanigan but alas, I only have myself to blame. I had a comb in my pocket that I didn't expect and down it went to my horror earlier this afternoon.
Heber and I set to work about 10:30, because really, what happens before 10:30 at our house? It's always the time when something huge happens and we don't make it to bed on time ever. He tried his technical tools including a long snakey professional one to no success.
Heb stuck his hand in first to see if he could reach it and it nearly got stuck there forever, and really, how do I explain that one to the first responder that would have to show up to our house to save him, "you see, I accidentally flushed this comb and he was trying to fix it and couldn't get his hand out ever." We didn't want that to happen so it was all up to me.
In I went. First up to my wrist, then up to my elbow and still I reached. Before moving forward, can we just add this to the list of "places that I never thought my hand would be"? Okay, good. It took some time but I was finally able to jiggle it free. I don't think I could have done that a year ago. Perhaps all these poopy diapers have trained me for something.
I am now heading to bed, sans comb because I couldn't in good conscience ever use it again. It is sad because I've owned that one a while and liked it. It's done good work over the years.
So there's our adventure for tonight. Gross.
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