Sullivan marvels at a video of a toilet demonstration: hot dogs, chicken nuggets, kitty litter, flush into oblivion; "oddly meditative" Sully says. I am reminded of a recent adventure.

A few weeks back, while we were moving out of the old house, I got stuck with the task of emptying the refrigerator, alone. The plan was to bring a cooler along, throw everything worth saving into the cooler and haul it to the new house, but I forgot to bring the cooler. All I had were some large plastic garbage bags. So I started putting jars and bottles of condiments and sauces into a bag. I soon realized, however, that it was going to be far too heavy to carry. And I didn't want multiple bags, because fuck that. So, I decided to throw some of it out. But, all of the glass was recyclable, and guilt about the goddamn Earth got the best of me. So, I had to empty them. But I didn't want to just dump the contents of those jars and bottles into the trash because five bottles-worth of salad dressing would make for one stinky garbage can! I had to find some other method of disposal ... The Toilet!

And so, I started dumping sauces, syrups, dressings, marinades, capers, relishes, mustards, broke-down dips, and all the other stinky, sticky, liquid crap I didn't want to save ... into the downstairs toilet. This quickly became a pungent, chunky, red, white, green and gray slurry. It looked and smelled pretty much like the collected vomit of a dozen "I dare you to drink this!" contestants. Then I found a jar of pickles! I figured a toilet should be able to handle a half-dozen pickle spears without trouble; a pickle's size and shape being similar to what a toilet is designed to handle... ipso facto, ex post partum, reesees mentos, QED... no problem! (See, Mrs, I do too think about things before I just go and do them!) So in they went. They sank and, except for the tips of a couple spears, disappeared.

And then time came to send the horrific bubbling (tonic water!) mess to the sea. So I flushed and ... the pickles wouldn't go. Though they were old, they still didn't have the flexibility to get through the twist at the bottom of the bowl - damn your eternally crunchy pickles, Vlasic! Then, the relish and the rest of the chunky goop hooked up with the pickles and formed a seal at the bottom, plugging the drain. And the water kept flowing in. Higher and higher, the roiling pink brew climbed towards the top of the bowl.

There was no plunger in reach. Nothing in sight with which to pry or push or pull the obstruction. Panic was rising along with the slurry. An overflow of that mess would be a disaster. But, being a veteran of many toilet repairs, I remembered how toilets work... So I smartly reached down and turned off the water supply. Water stopped pouring in, the goop stopped rising. Crisis delayed!

I searched the garage and eventually found an old paint stir-stick. With that, I chopped the submerged pickles into flushable chunks. After a bit of this, success: the toilet belched in vinegary relief and swallowed the whole bowl full of evil in one wretched gulp. A couple more flushes took care of all the clinging and smeared remnants. And, except for the smell, there was no sign the event had ever happened.

Success.