Cow butt basement

It's been an awesome night.  I don't even know where to start.  A little back story first.  Our basement smells like farts.  It has smelled like farts for quite some time now.  I remember posting on a town chat board asking the question "why does my basement smell like farts" over a year ago.  There were many possible explanations that seemed logical enough for me to continue to procrastinate around getting to the bottom of it (hee hee).  If you're a "responsible" home owner I'm sure you're asking yourself "how could they let that go on for so long?"  Because that's how we roll.

Fast forward to tonight after dinner.  Out of nowhere the kitchen sink stops draining.  Illogical step 1:  Get the plunger.  I plunge.  Husband plunges.  Bubbles, gunk no drainage.  Step 2: I take everything out from under the sink, get a bucket and start to dismantle the plumbing.  No clog found there.  Step 3: Call neighbors and borrow "snake".  No luck with "snake".  Step 4:  Call father and ask for advice.  Father informs about thing called "clean outs".  Here's where our story REALLY begins.

So my dad tells me about these clean out valves.  I follow the pipe from the kitchen sink to the basement and figure out where it goes.  I start to unscrew this valve and it immediately starts spraying the foulest, cow ass smelling water ever.  A normal human would just walk away at this point and leave it to the professionals.  I am not a normal human.  I have an illness.  It must be related to the face picking but it's about not leaving well enough alone.

So I get a recycling bin and a bucket and go to town.  I swear the methane coming out of this pipe could have powered a smallish South American nation for at least a week.  There is a FOUNTAIN of butt water spraying all over me, all over the basement.  I finally get enough pressure released that I can get my snake in the pipe (hee hee) and start cranking.  All this does is slosh more foulness everywhere and give me a giant blister on my thumb.  

So you may also be asking yourself, "don't you have a husband?"  "Where was he this whole time?"  I do have a husband.  And he possesses something that I don't have.  Common sense.  He stuck his head down in the basement just in time to stop me from shopvacking the water out of the pipe.  It was at this point I knew I needed to step away and let the professionals handle this.

I have now showered and scrubbed the top layer of my skin off with some Tone Sugar Glow.  We'll wait and see what food borne illness has seeped into the hundreds of small scrapes and cuts in my hands.  

The sick part is I'm actually happy to know why my basement has smelled like a cow's butt for so long.  I always did like Nancy Drew.