Happy Mother’s Day to you, too, I thought at the rogue jar of jam. Nobody turn on the disposal. Because that would be extra fun.
My hero looked it over and thought up a plan. It involved bending heavy wires with pliers and getting them under it and lifting it out. Not as a single piece going down and across underneath (how, anyway?) and up again but more like the feet on a long stick figure.
I was, to the say the least, skeptical, but trying to be supportive like he was trying to be supportive, so we gave it a try. And then several more, with one holding the flashlight and one…
Not working.
I went looking for the tongs that had been used to retrieve something from behind the washing machine–oh look, it got washed and put back in the kitchen where it belongs, fancy that–and looked at it skeptically. There was no way there was room for that jar and those tongs together.
But when you have a plan B and you don’t have a plan C (that you want to consider) you at least try.
I utterly failed.
Not right away, not till the jar had dropped hopelessly back several times, but, HE DID IT!!! He got it out!!! We don’t have to call a plumber tomorrow!
Sometimes, when you really need a Mother’s Day present like that, you get to have it.
And an atrocious pun that my Dad would have roared laughing over.