Thursday afternoon I returned home at exactly 2:45. Kim was
taking the “big kids” to the library for some sort of children’s science
program that started at 3:00 and had asked me to come home early. I came in,
she loaded the kids up in the mini-van and mentioned that Korah was still
taking her nap. What am I to do but head for my “home office” to take care of
some business.
After putting in a good 30 minutes of “hard work” I flushed!
The water began to turn, it continued to turn, and then it began to raise.
Closer and closer it came to the brim as I scrambled for the closet where we – usually
– keep the plunger. No plunger! I tear through the house, running first to our
bathroom. No plunger! Running to the other end of the house I scramble into the
girls’ bathroom. No plunger.
Forgetting all other options I run into the main bathroom –
where the poo water is now flowing over the brim of the toilet and I throw
three towels around the base of the commode. Then, buckling my pants, I sprint
out the front door and head toward the church. Juggling to find the right key I
enter the church and head straight to the men’s restroom, steal the plunger,
and sprint – now out of breath – back to the house.
As I enter the house and turn toward the bathroom – water still
pouring out of the commode – two questions occur to me; (1) “Why didn’t I turn
the the water off at the toilet?” and (2) “Why is Lucy (our dog) drinking the
poo water?”. Without hesitation I yell, “Lucy” at which point she rolls over to
slather her fur in the river of solid waste flowing through the bathroom.
One plunge and the flow was done.
Relieved but still overwhelmed, I turn and scoop up Lucy - still
laying on the floor like a submissive puppy - and I head for the back door. I
throw Lucy outside and made my way toward the garage to find the shop vac.
Side note: In the midst of the running through the house,
doors slamming, and me yelling “where’s the plunger” and “Lucy”, Korah had
woken from her nap.
Now in the garage, I grab the shop vac – determined to stop
the river of poo before it reaches the hallway – and I head back inside. Just
as I turn the corner I see the only thing worse than our dog drinking my
watered-down poo, my three-year old daughter laying in it! She woke up, and
came looking for “mommy” but instead was greeted by dad’s feces.
Scooping Korah up off the floor – dripping wet I might add –
I grab four more towels and lay them at the baseboard around the room.
The next
hour included;
- a bath for Korah
- vacuum the bathroom
- throw all bathroom “elements” outside
- wash hands
- call Kim and the kids and tell them to “take their time”
- bleach the bathroom floor, toilet, walls, etc.
- wash hands
- a bath for Lucy
- do laundry
- wash hands
Days later I’m
still dealing with “repercussions” as we found out that the poo water had crept
into the girls closet and the living room and drenching the carpet and bringing
a very interesting smell with it.
Happy
flushing folks!
