My sewer line stopped up. At stake were not just my own slow flushes, but the happiness of the tenant who rents my back house. My hand snake wouldn’t budge the sludge, so I called a plumber. His powered professional poop pulverizer pulled out a tangle of tampons and clipped the roots that snagged them. “Sewer mice”, he called them.
Those came from my tenant’s drain, and after paying my plumber, I made it a point to inform my tenant that tampons should never be flushed, period. She promised not to.
A few months later the problem recurred. I called the plumber back, and again he arrived with his drain-cleaner machinery and cleared the way. Again there were sewer mice, though not as many, but he told me that the other part of the problem, the roots that catch their little tails, should not have regrown that quickly. There must be a flaw in the line where a thirsty tree was re-inserting its tendrils. Digging up the pipe and fixing or replacing it would be expensive if he did the job, and more work than I wanted to do myself.
I asked him about root-killing chemicals. His suggestion was salt. Trees don’t like salt water, he told me, and would stay out of a salty pipe. Adding rock salt to my toilet tank would make every flush a saline solution. This inexpensive suggestion appealed to me. Since then I have kept a container of rock salt next to my toilet, and I add a cupful to the tank each time I flush.
So far, so good. If my plumber’s solution proves effective in the long run, I will indeed deem him a wise man…the salt of the earth.
==cosmicrat March 10, 2013