PASSING THE MUCK
When I was a youngster, we lived in an apartment complex. One day after work, my father was greeted with the news that the kitchen sink was full of standing water. After studying the situation, my father cleverly reversed the hose on the vacuum so it blew instead of sucked and blasted the clog past the sink trap.
It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door. The nextdoor neighbor lady was there— covered with soapy water and disgusting goo. She explained that she had been cleaning vegetables in the kitchen sink when there was a sudden, loud—and drenching!—eruption from her kitchen drain. She wanted to know if my father knew what could have caused this disaster. (Apparently the apartment units shared a drain line.) My father looked her right in her mucky face and said he had “no idea” what happened. He enjoyed many years of retelling the story of how his bright idea had led to a bald-faced lie.