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She stood up, refusing to be defeated by plumbing. She fetched the heavy-duty gel drain cleaner from under the sink, the industrial stuff with skull-and-crossbones warnings. She squeezed the entire bottle down the drain, the gel clinging to the porcelain like translucent, chemical leeches.
“Stubborn today, are we?” she murmured, as if addressing a sulky child. baking soda in drain
Eleanor felt a familiar prickle of heat climb her neck. This was the same feeling she’d had watching her husband, Paul, pack a suitcase last spring. The feeling of pouring logic and love and routine into a situation, only to have it all come bubbling back up, unchanged. She stood up, refusing to be defeated by plumbing