I like to learn new skills. Whether it’s practical like knowing how to properly take off surgical gloves or archaic like hand-spinning wool, I tend to tuck each new tidbit of knowledge away with a “there’s something else that might come in handy after the apocalypse” thought. Yes, when civilization as we know it comes to an end and the Michaels and JoAnns are picked clean by zombie grannies, you are welcome to come to me for your knitting needs for I will still be able to provide yarn.

Today I pulled on the metaphorical boots of my Viking/Pioneer/Farmer Woman ancestry and learned a new skill.

The toilet at my parents’ office overflowed. It was kinda gross. After calling several plumbers, my mom (who provided my aforementioned genetic strappiness) and I went to a hardware store and got a toilet snake.

I wielded the snake. My mom wielded the bucket of ammonia and a mop. In the end?

Toilet: No longer clogged.

Patient-who-flushed-paper-towels-down-the-toilet: Cursed by us all.

Me: