Dance of the Seven Plungers!

"They just don't make things the way the used to". Who said that? It couldn't have been me. No,no, no! I'm too young, too hip, too cool, too blond? Old people sit around and grouse about such things. My dad says that. Oh God, I've become my dad....quick the heavy drugs... take me back to the 70s. I'm kvetching about the good old days....who am I? I need an emergency trip to Neimans in order to get re-focused. "Mom where are you...? You don't care about the way things are made as long as they cost alot.....why am I Dad"?

I am here to say, on the day of my "old person" reckoning that they don't make plungers the way they used to. And yes, every household still needs a plunger regardless of whether you Facebook, Twitter, or use an iPhone. I am however, willing to admit that I'm a domestic loser. I was cleaning the toilet with one of those "thingies" that are on a wand. Now I ask you ,why do they have a "release" button if you can't flush the "thingie" down the damn toilet? WHY?!? Because it's got a hexagonal plastic center is the right answer. No sooner had I released and flushed than I knew. Duh! It will never make it. I ran for the plunger. "Ready, aim, PLUNGE"...I could save the day and the need for a $$$plumber. A plunger that turned inside out and didn't SNAP back into place was useless. Useless I say! The water was rising and my flimsy plunger remained inside out on a stick. The plungers from my childhood did not do this. I'm freaking out so Neil went and bought me another one. Again, "ready , aim, plunge"! CURSES! Who makes these things? General Motors? "This isn't a real plunger", I screamed and ran out the door.

I had to take matters into my own hands. Ace Hardware, plumbing aisle was my first stop. I ripped one off the shelf and practiced plunged. Yep, inside out....another fake plunger. Was the world coming to an end? I flung it back and hightailed it to the car. HOME DEPOT loomed on the horizon. If not there...where?! I put my head on the shoulder of the man in charge of plumbing equipment and sobbed about the good old days of heavy rubber plungers. He understood. He gently placed two types in my hands and told me one was a new plastic contraption that would never bring me happiness and the other exactly what I was looking for. I practiced plunged for 15 minutes and he was right. It snapped back every time. I stopped crying, thanked him and promised to send my friends to his aisle.

I arrived home victorious with my new heavy rubber, good old fashioned plunger. Neimans has never brought me that kind of joy.