Mmmm, Much Better

So, when things get stuck in the garbage disposal, I usually wait until Steven comes home so he can fish the thing out. It's usually just a water bottle lid or a baby spoon, but still. Why is it that as an educated adult woman, it still freaks the living daylights out of me to stick my hand down there? As if the disposal might become its own thinking entity and will turn on just to get back at me for all the weird things I put down there.

Give me a break, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep.

It used to be like this with grills. I used to think that if I touched the propane tank on a grill incorrectly or opened it wrong, it just might explode with a fury leaving my children with no mother (and, after teaching a grilling class to about 40 women, I learned I wasn't alone). If I can get past that, I can surely get past a garbage disposal!

Well, besides needing some obvious therapy, I've solved the stinky sink problem. I had to overcome some fears and clean the underside of the black rubber that keeps the water and stuff from flying back in your face. That, along with some Kaboom (that purple cleaner the really loud & obnoxious guy sells on TV) to get rid of all the hard water, I'm not smelling anything. Thanks for all the advice, everyone!