He wasn’t, of course. Just a man with a clogged toilet and a pantry. But as he flushed—once, twice, clean and clear—he knew one thing for certain: he would never doubt the foamy fury of baking soda and vinegar again. At least, not until the next chili night.
Then, the volcano.
Step one was a prayer: bail out some water. Leo used an old yogurt tub, his face a mask of grim determination as he scooped the murky liquid into a bucket. It took five scoops to lower the water level to a manageable depth. unclog toilet with vinegar and baking soda
Leo leaned against the bathroom wall, vinegar sting in his nostrils, a paper towel soaked in toilet water clinging to his elbow. He looked at the now-serene bowl, then at the two empty bottles on the floor. He wasn’t, of course
The culprit: his toilet. Specifically, the offering he had made to it an hour ago after a particularly bold chili dinner. The water level was now a menacing inch from the rim—a porcelain standoff. The plunger, his usual knight in rubber armor, had chosen this moment to split its wooden handle clean in two. At least, not until the next chili night