This weekend our kitchen sink got clogged. Pierre noticed it first. "We'll have to call a plumber, " he states emphatically. When I give a less than positive response, he moves to "We'll have to go buy some Drano."

I know for sure, there will be no plumber until I have done everything in my power to fix it, including taking the pipes below it apart, using the plunger for 3 or 4 hours, and putting down the drain a concoction so lethal (even though made of household ingredients) that it puts Drano to shame.

As Pierre continues his capitulation to the clog god, I rush to the garage and grab the plunger. The new super dooper plunger with concertina effect. Pierre plunges, but his heart isn't in it because he is busy planning his trip to buy Drano, followed closely by his call to a plumber. Meanwhile, I am mixing up a lethal brew. I have actually no clue what I am mixing together but I am pretty sure it will open the drain but maybe by blowing up the double sink area together with the granite.

"What is that?" Pierre asks. "Oh just something to get things moving," I say. One second later Pierre says, "It's not working." "

For goodness sake," I say, not wanting to admit defeat, but privately worried that it's really not going to work. "Give it some time. It didn't clog in 5 minutes."

And then I grab the plunger, plunge with verve and just when I am about to give up, there is a parting of the waves noise and a gush of water down the drain.

"There," I say. "No need for a plumber."

Ok, so my never say die attitude extends to clogged drains, but I work at rates much less than a plumber and much, much less than the cost of a bottle of Drano.

And Pierre is good at other stuff, like programming this website and cooking.

Happy Valentine's Day, honey. I love you

Gillian Parrillo
The Sacramento Executive