Sinks and the dark holes

A few days ago, someone drained their mug of tea and left the bag sitting in the sink. Without thinking, I turned on the faucet and the tea bag went down the drain without so much a plop or stopping the flow of water.

Today, out of curiosity, I put my head closer to examine the drain. Where did it lead and where did the tea bag go?

I had seen the final destination trailer and knew better than to put my hand down the drain. Fortunately my curiosity expired right before a coworker walked into the kitchen. No explanation necessary.

The sinks just…somehow work magically. Somehow it’s engineered in the right way that all water flows down and doesn’t stop. But how would the blockage occur as it is doing in my bathroom sink? And that sucking noise that seems to make the drain stronger than just a hole in my ceramic?

And so I went back to my desk, thinking no more of the subject. But to a singular thought, it was as if I didn’t really need to know. Really I don’t.

A few days ago, someone was talking about this puzzle, a conundrum. The world is falling apart. You need to seek refuge and you find a farmer’s house, but of course the farmer is there and certainly the farmer won’t help you out. So you do what you have to do, kill the farmer in order to take control of the farm. But now that you’re there, do you know how to rotate the crops? Know how to seed? Know how to fertilize appropriately?

Watching these apocalyptic movies and tv shows makes me think about how much knowledge will disappear. The architects, the engineers. How do we get the energy out of rock? The ore? The iron? How do we create a building that has enough shelter, but can withstand earthquakes and other natural elements?

And how do I make a hole in a bowl so that it will drain out and never back in.

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