The fat incident

You will exclaim “Oh Alana!” … and not in a good way … when I tell you this story.

Within hours of receiving the horrifying $2400 plumber’s bill for my leaking gas pipes last week my drains started doing this …

I was a bit emotionally numb by that point and dejectedly sent the above pic to DD. He was in a taxi headed to the airport in Taipei, following a speaking engagement at a conference.

He’d just sent me a much nicer picture – well, aside from the barbed wire – of the sunset …

Anyways, DD got off the plane on Friday morning and snuck into my house to try and sort out my drains while I was at a meeting. Bless him.

But my heart sank when I got a message mid-meeting that said: “So, how do you normally get rid of cooking fat and oil.”

It was one of those aha! moments when you suddenly have a blinding revelation about the error of your ways.

I don’t use much cooking oil, never deep fried anything in my life, just use a little for stir-fries.

I usually pour any small bits left into the bin, then rinse the pan out.

But, a few years ago I became addicted to eating goats cheese marinated in oil with my scrambled eggs for breakfast.

When I finish the cheese, lots of oil is left behind. I leave the jars of oil in the fridge until there’s no room left for food, then I pour the contents down the sink and recycle the jars.

Well, I used to. I now understand that it is very, very ill-advised to pour lots of oil down your sink.

Anyways, DD’s next text said: “Ever heard of a fat burg?”

Er, no.

And the following conversation ensued: