Hiding in Plain Sight
When I brought a tool box with me to my first post-college apartment, my roommates were amused. Hammers, screwdrivers, a hand saw, vise-grip pliers and wrenches were, to say the least, not a typical sight in apartments occupied by artsy, bohemian twenty-something women such as ourselves. This strange contribution to our new home was vindicated a few months later when the kitchen sink drain clogged. One of my roommates called the property manager, who told her that since it was a weekend it would be a couple of days before a plumber could come by. So I hauled out my trusty pipe wrench, put the dish pan under the drain trap, and twisted off the clean-out plug. After a cascade of fetid grunge-water poured into the dish pan, I reached in and pulled out...
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