We Can Do It!

While Jean is on a well earned vacation, Valerie would like to tell an inspiring story of personal triumph over inanimate objects.

In one way, at least, I have become my mother.  I have a transistor radio that I carry around the house with me.  This one does its job perfectly well, but is very badly designed.  If I hold it on the left side, I muffle the speaker.  If I hold it on the right side, I accidentally change the channel or turn it off.  But worst, as you can perhaps see, is that I have had to permanently remove the cover to the battery chamber on the bottom because I just about need a pair of pliers to pry it loose every time I want to change the batteries.  Leaving the chamber open creates additional problems because with the slightest touch the batteries come loose or fall out.  And just like in the movies, it always happens when the speaker is going to reveal the name of the killer.  By the time I put the battery back in, they're announcing today's sponsors.

One recent day, I had carried the radio to the bathroom so I wouldn't miss the killer's name while I was washing my face.  I put it on the side of the sink to keep the audio close to my ear.

In the quintessential demonstration of Murphy's Law (anything that can go wrong will), just as I had a faceful of soap, the radio went flying into the sink (did I touch it?  was it poorly balanced on the sink?),  AND lost its battery, probably just as they were about to reveal the name of the killer.

Eagle-eyed readers will have noticed that in picture two above there is no filter in the drain.  Usually there is, but that day there wasn't.

Uh-oh!

Well, you know what that means.  The battery has gone down the sink, and is probably stuck in the elbow of the drain.  Now I'll never find out who the killer was.

The first thing I did was to take out my trusty tool box.  There's a big bolt at the bottom of the elbow of the drain.  I've unscrewed it before, so I figured I'd just do it again.  But it didn't matter which of my tools I used, I couldn't even loosen the bolt.  Nothing seemed quite big enough.  I thought maybe my tools were getting old and losing their traction.













Time to bring out the big guns. I asked the doorman if he had a wrench larger than mine. He had two! But they were too big to fit under the narrow sink AND allow for turning.