(I’m still feeling out what I’d like to call these moments: tiny wins? small joys? little triumphs? I like categorizing topics, and this feels like a topic I’d like to keep coming back to.)

My sink was clogged for about two weeks. I could’ve called the super to fix it, but I wanted to give it a go. I also didn’t want him to think less of me for not being able to fix such a simple thing. “You called me for this?!” he’d say as he judges my helplessness.

So while my fiancee watched the American Music Awards, I decided it was finally time to do something about the clog. I researched videos on YouTube to see if there was a DIY method without having to use a snake. No such luck. The one video that did help was instructions on how to remove the stopper. Other than that, I was on my own.

I opened up the sink cabinet, flashing my light into the cavernous depths of the underbelly of the porcelain bowl. I moved away the tampons, the pantry of shampoo and conditioner, and the assortment of bathroom cleaners. As the video instructed, I unscrewed the stopper and removed the plunger. The plunger was covered in a black sludge, reminiscent of Venom. I dared not examine closer or smell it. I simply wiped it away with toilet paper.

Since I didn’t have a snake, I took a metal hanger and bent it straight. Using the tiny hooks, I dug around a bit inside the sink, pulling out strands of hair and what looked like a strip of cardboard paper—the culprit of the clog. I nearly gagged at the sight of this decomposing strand that’s been plaguing our sink for nearly 2 weeks.

I attached the plunger back on, screwed on the stopper, and put back all the materials into the sink cabinet. I turned on the water faucet, and the water flowed down. The clog but a memory. I exclaimed victory.

Now whenever I use the sink and see the water go down to the depths of the Brooklyn sewer system, I feel like a conqueror.