Home Repairs

My bathroom sink drain smells funny. Not Haha funny. Yukkers funny. From time-to-time I pour some drain cleaner into it and for a while, the smell goes away. But then it comes back. I suspected there must be a dead animal in there (although I hoped not), but I tried not to think about it too much. That hasn't been working lately.
Now the thing is, I live alone. What am I supposed to do about this? You can't call over an acquaintance to pull a (possibly) small (possibly) dead rodent out of your drain. Or at least you would have to give that person supper, or a piece of pie or something. It hardly seemed worth the effort. Plus, I waa afraid that whatever this acquaintance would pull out of there could quite likely end whatever friendship we have. It could be that bad. Kind of like a Stephen King novel bad. So I had to come up with another plan.
My daughter mentioned that she's taken the drain apart more than once to retrieve a lost ring or earring or something. Hmmmm, she can't not speak to me anymore, nor do I have to give her supper....I decided to ask her to open the darn thing up.
So I pulled everything out from under the sink and asked her to give it a go. She got one of the joints apart, but couldn't do the second one. This is where the boyfriend comes in. We called him in, off the couch to use his muscles, while I kept my fingers crossed behind my back that something really gross didn't slide out when he got the pipe off, leading him to run screaming from my house, never to be heard from again and then, oh dear, I suppose my daughter could not speak to me again if that DID happen! It didn't though. I do have a question however. Why is it when a woman attacks a job like this, she simply reaches in and gives it her best college try, but when a man does a job like this, he climbs into the cupboard with his entire body and yards at it like he's competing in an Olympic sport? Never mind. It doesn't matter. Long story short, the BF got it off, handed it to me. We took a moment to sing the Canadian anthem. I took a deep breath and ran downstairs to the kitchen sink and ran hot hot hot water through it until this NASTY concoction pooped out and I almost had a heart attack. It did not have eyes, it did not have legs and No Virginia, it was NOT a small dead animal. I don't know what it was, and I don't want to know. EVER. But it's out now. And since it was out, I was able to get under the sink and put the whole kaboodle back together without the fear of having my eyes pecked out by god knows what. I am so grateful that's done. And that we all lived to tell about it. It could have been worse, you know. Much, much worse.