20 Foot Icicles and Zinfandel

In case you thought I was joking when I declared myself a red neck yuppie, I offer tonight as a prime example of the awesome force that is me. I spent the majority of the day sitting in a class on how to analyze the heck out a person and how to manipulate my tendencies to achieve synergy with those who don't understand that I am always right. O.K., maybe that last part was ad lib but I'm going with it. Since class finished an hour earlier than I usually get done, I had the great idea to grab a little snack and pick up something at the liquor store. After picking up some Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey and a bottle of Red Zinfandel, I proceeded to head home.

Upon arrival at the hostel I call my home, I decided to extract the wife's car from the ice berg it was surrounded by so, we didn't have to drive the SUV when the road conditions didn't warrant it. Once I completed that task, I was planning on a nice quiet suburban night of yelling at the kids, getting online, and having a little drink. Before I could get to that though, I figured I better fold some wash and put it away.

So, I am sitting there with a basket full of socks, blankets and assorted other clothing articles while the kids are watching Open Season. At approximately the fifth pair of boxer briefs, I hear an interesting sound. I asked my wife if she was running some laundry - nope. O.K. then what is making that noise? The refrigerator? The furnace? The freezer? Again, nope. Upon investigation, I discover that my sump pump is running. This strikes me odd as typically it only runs a few seconds and then shuts off. Being the ingenious handyman that I am I decide to investigate this a little further. I open the sump pump basin lid and there is the sump pump running and the pressure valve just blasting out water - not good. So, I reach into the sump pump basin to try and see if the pump is just misaligned (this is something that someone with as limited understanding of sump pumps as I have, should not do). After a few shakes of the discharge tube the sump pump disconnects from said tube and begins blasting the most noxious water you can imagine straight into my face. I flounder for the plug and yank it out of the wall. I am at this point soaked. I utter some rather choice words to which my wife responds, "Uh, are you O.K."? As she comes to investigate, I don't miss the fits of laughter that she is trying to hold back. My offering at this point, "I know this looks funny, but I am not appreciating the laughter".

Fortunately, I am not a complete mechanical moron. I realize that I need to gather up some critical tools and start by reconnecting the sump pump. Once I get this task done, I realize that there must be something blocking the discharge pipe. My guess is ice. So, I head out to shovel out the end of the discharge pipe. After shoveling it out, I go back inside to start the sump pump again. Still nothing is getting out. In my infinite wisdom, I decide to cut the discharge pipe closer to the house in hope that it is only frozen at the end. I cut the pipe off approximately ten feet from my house and what should I find, it is frozen solid. Enter the Red Neck. I run inside, grab my kitchen trash can and start filling it with hot water. Once I get a reasonable amount of hot water in the trash can I head back outside and pour it over the pipe......nothing. I mean zilch, nada, zippo, nothing. However, I see that the ice in the pipe is sticking a little further out of the end of the pipe. A couple of good shakes later, the pressure from the sump pump fires a ten foot long icicle out of the pipe and empties out the water from the sump pump basin - I am my own personal, soaked hero. In celebration of my conquest of the frozen sump pump fiasco, I have cracked open my newly purchased bottle of wine and sat down here to share my tale whilst sitting in my still very damp and very dirty jeans. I realize it can't get any more red neck yuppie than this. I am a science unto myself.