Today, I had to do not one, but two household tasks that I really abhor.
When I was growing up, we didn't have a disposal. For that matter, we didn't have a dishwasher, or a VCR, or a microwave either. (And you know, these things DID actually EXIST in the 80's.)
So, we washed the dishes in the sink (by we, I mean my mother, and I... my dad did not do dishes. Later, by we, I mean me, as my mother was too busy avoiding her life to actually do the dishes.) Part of doing the dishes entailed occasionally cleaning the accumulated gook out of the drain grill.
Bits of hair and soggy food.
I really, really hated doing it. It was nasty and slimy and I often had deep suspicions of what else might crawl out of the drain while I had my hand full of gross. After Thomas and I got married, we lived in one apartment for a year that didn't have a disposal. I made him clean out that gook. (We only stayed in that apartment for a year, and while I wouldn't say the entire reason we moved out was because of the lack of disposal, it was ON the list.)
These days, I won't even consider an apartment that doesn't have what I consider to be the basic amenities. (Cable ready, disposal, dishwasher, air conditioning. You know, essential things!!)
Unfortunately, there is no disposal in the bottom of my dishwasher.
Now, admittedly, I don't have to do this nearly as OFTEN as I had to scrape out the drain, but from time to time, there dishwasher gets a little clotted up, with leftover food bits stuck on a grill in the far back of the machine.
So, I had to clean it today.
The second task that I really hate came next.
I tossed this handful of cruft into the sink and ran the disposal. Whiiiiir THUNK BANG BANG THUNK.
I turned off the disposal and stopped the water. Using a spoon, I peered into the dark opening.
I'd eaten some avocado last night, and I'd popped the seed out into the sink.
Avocado seeds are... not small. There's no way that my disposal can manage to chew that thing up without seriously damaging the unit.
This particular task is daunting. I'm afraid of the disposal. As much as I love its usefulness, I have a Stephen Kingian phobia about the thing.
Have you ever read Firestarter? Not seen the movie, because the movie doesn't cover this little bit of nastiness, but actually read the book? In it, one of the Shop's doctors, Pynchot, is driven by Andy (the father of the main character) into insanity and eventually Pynchot commits suicide by sticking his arm into the disposal all the way to the elbow and bleeding to death. While dressed in women's underwear, just to add insult to injury.
But... what else am I going to do? I can't leave it down there.
I do, however, go flip the breaker before I fetch the seed. Which I still do, very gingerly, and as quickly as possible.
I think the disposal was laughing at me.