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  I was visiting at a friend's house, when unexpectedly I had a costly mishap. During my morning blow dry and curling iron ritual, I managed to repeatedly burn the sink. I was completely unaware until I heard an alarming shout, "What the hell happened to my sink?" Who knew, a sink made of some sort of plastic? I had managed to carve a tapestry of dents into the rim of the sink. You must understand, I grew up in New Orleans with cast iron sinks and claw foot tubs. I was embarassed and humiliated. Of course I had to replace the sink. And we all know if you replace the sink, you have to also replace the fixtures (because the size of the old fixture is no longer a standard size). Which means the tub, shower and everything related to that bathroom sink must be replaced. In part, because its the right thing to do. The other part, pure unfiltered guilt.

    That brings us to post-Katrina, I was now renting. I took one look at the bathroom sink; and I didn't recognize the material. A dizzing flashback of "the sink that sunk a paycheck" motivated me to find a board that could hold heat.

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