Rated D for Disgusting. This post may not be suitable for all audiences. Nausea discretion advised. The below is a true and accurate account of the horror that ensued in the bathroom of our old apartment as I recall. Nothing has been changed to protect the innocent - I wasn't even wearing rubber gloves and wish I had been wearing a mask or better yet a hood.
We FINALLY moved. Not back to ID but closer to my work. YAY! More about that later. I witnessed the most disgusting thing of my life while we were cleaning our old apartment after our move. If I may preface this with THERE IS NOTHING I HATE WORSE THAN CLEANING HAIR OUT OF THE DRAIN OF A BATHTUB. Seriously. Especially when it is not mine! In a "would you rather" game everything beats this for me. (Again, for the faint of heart you should stop here trust me) Two years ago we moved into our apartment. It was not as clean as I felt an apartment should be when someone new moves in but most of the things were things I am just particular about. The drain in my bathroom wasn't the best at draining but it wasn't like water pooled in the bottom of the shower - just a little lately. Everyone loses hair in the shower and am I the best at not letting it go down the drain? - no. But I don't let it all go down. AND when I clean the shower I always clean off the drain. And I use Drano when needed. So there was that to begin with. Also, I always thought my bathroom smelled weird. Was it because I don't always like to use the fan and it gets too humid? Was it because I feed the cat in there? Does my dirty laundry smell? Who knew? I reasoned it away with all of these explanations. We spend 15 minutes a day in the shower and like an hour more getting ready and going in and out of the bathroom every day. I didn't take a lot of time to question what was really going on. Last Saturday I found out. Now from this point forward a lot of the details are fuzzy because my defense mechanisms blocked a lot of the memory. But I started with my bathroom and planned to work forward through the rest of the house. Cleaned the sink - check! Cleaned the toilet - check! Cleaned the mirror - check! Shower door - check! Ok almost done! I get down on my knees to clean the bottom of the shower and there is some hair wrapped around (hold on I have to take a moment here to gag - it's all coming back to me. . . )
. . . . . . Ok. . . wrapped around the drain. I couldn't get it off so I went to get a flathead screwdriver. That worked fine. And what possessed me to do more I don't know. Maybe because I used to clean the drain in our sink growing up and there was always more there than what met the eye. But never more than what two girls could yank out with curlers and brushes in a couple weeks time. Still gross mind you. Gross enough to make it my least favorite thing to do. Nothing, NOTHING in my childhood or at any other time in my life thus far could have prepared me for what I pulled out of that drain. I got it part way out and started screaming. Kelly came running. I kept pulling. The smell hit me and I started dry heaving. Again the details start to become fuzzy. It was as big as the actual Grudge! (I would not be telling this story if it wasn't!) It was wet and moldy and chunky. (Reliving this is almost too much). Kelly's reaction was Ohh. OHHH! As a look of disgust and horror crossed his face. "What is that?!" I am still wretching, trying to get away from it. Begging, pleading my husband with "I can't do it! Oh my gosh - it's so gross! Ack ack! My eyes! My soul! "Please go get a plastic bag!" Gag gag! He runs away. "NOOOO!" "Save yourself!" "Come back! Don't leave me!" It's lying there in the bottom of the shower ominously. It may have moved on it's own, I'm not sure. I lost consciousness for a moment. My hero returns and valiantly scoops it up with the screwdriver into the bag, ties it off and disposes of it. All we could do was hold each other after that. We survived the Grudge. I told him few times have I ever loved him more in our marriage. He looked at me funny but that is how much it meant to me that he saved me from having to finish the thing off.
My shower experiences are filled with trepidation now. I look down at the drain and shudder, trying to shake the memory of that awful day. I fear what could be in my new drain - I pray I never find out. Ignorance is bliss. Word to the wise - don't try and be an overachiever, leave the drain cleaning to a plumber. And let's just take a minute to pay tribute to those plumbers - we salute you.
Grudge - Die you evil monster!
