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Super Sewage Sunday

February 8, 2010

I didn’t get as much reading done this weekend as I hoped. Instead, at half-time of the Super Bowl, I had to deal with a plumbing emergency of epic proportions at my parent’s beach house. I started a load of laundry, and a clog somewhere in the plumbing system of the house caused the water from the washing machine to find an alternate route of escape — so sudsy water poured over the top of both toilets; and water from the toilets — destined for the sewer — came bubbling up into the tub. It looked like some type of scene from a horror movie. Brown murky water bubbling and threatening to unearth some ungodly creature.

I spent an hour bailing water out of both bathtubs with an empty 5 gallon Butter Caramel Pecan ice cream bucket. For a moment, after spilling a particularly large bucket down the front of my shirt and realizing I smelled like sewage, I just sat down in the hall and thought, “If my life were a sit-com, this would be funny. If my life were a TV drama, they are going to find a dead body blocking my plumbing system.” The verdict is still out on that, by the way.

This is not the first time in my life where I have felt a panic attack forming as I watch water stream out of an unstopabble toilet. The first time was in the apartment I lived in after I came home from Japan. A mechanism in the toilet broke and water poured out of the top of the toilet at an alarming rate — the only way I could stop it was put my finger down into the little-spouty-thing and stop the flow the water: Like the story of the little Dutch  boy with his finger in the dike. You see…I did not realize I could turn off the water to the toilet. And after staying glued to the toilet for a half-an-hour, I was finally relieved by the building supervisor who was alterted to the problem because I had flooded my downstairs neighbor. Oops. He came up, looked at me with shock, turned off the water at the base of the toilet and said in a surprisingly not-condescending tone, “Yeah. If there’s a next time…just turn the water off.” Right. Oops.

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One Comment leave one →
  1. Connie Wescott permalink
    February 8, 2010 8:01 pm

    So, why did you send everyone away? You should have had them help you. The clog is probably 18 years of sand form all you kids. We are getting it cleaned out just in time for Elliott to start adding his own sand.

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