The most awful thing in the world
This is what our master bathroom is supposed to look like. This is what it looked like before the most awful thing in the world happened.
It seemed like a regular Friday afternoon. Buster had gotten a rawhide bone to chew on this morning, so he'd vomited two times earlier in the afternoon. You know, the usual. I took a shower, because BK and I had a hot date of dinner and a movie this evening. As I was showering, I noticed that the drain seemed to be a little blocked up, and I made a mental note to buy some Drano. When I stepped out of the shower to towel off, there were still a few inches of standing water. Ok, not ideal, but no big deal.
Then I made a big mistake. I decided to pee.
When I flushed, time stopped. The world stood still as the toilet began to violently overflow, gallons and gallons of nastiness spilling out over the tile floor, making a mad rush for the legs of the wooden armoire we'd recently bought. That was when I began to officially Freak Out, sprinting naked to the other bathroom to get the plunger, sprinting back and wildly plunging away at the cackling toilet that was still burping up the funk of 50 thousand years onto our floor.
That, my friends, was not, as Seinfeld would say, good naked.
Eventually the toilet stopped. I threw on some clothes and gathered up an armful of old towels and walked back into the bathroom to begin mopping up the mess. That's when I saw it. The most horrifying thing I've even seen. A cloud of blackness erupting from the shower drain, slowly spreading out in the standing water. I Freaked Out More and began plunging the shower drain to no avail. All I succeeded in doing was mixing the cloud with the standing water, reaching this effect:
This is what our master bathroom now looks like. This is what it looks like after the most awful thing in the world happened.
I left BK many Freaked Out voicemails. He turned out to be on his way home. When he got here, he patted me on the back and changed into his swim trunks, assuring me it was just a little blocked drain, nothing to worry about. He valiantly plunged the toilet until the black muck started flowing out of it as well, then bravely waded into the swamp that used to be our shower and plunged away at that until I Freaked Out the Most Ever, squatted on the floor and emitted a kind of low keening sound as I cried and laughed hysterically at the same time.
There is a plumber coming. This man will charge us $108 for the first 30 minutes of his services, and $30 for each additional 15 minutes. We don't care. We will pay anything to make this nightmare go away. We are quivering with fear as we wait in the living room watching Barbara Walters bid a fond adieu to 20/20. Some giant pipe must be broken! A root is overtaking things! We think there is a wet spot in the hallway under the carpet. There will be excavations! And drillings! There will be thousands and thousands of dollars spent, all to punish us for the unpardonable sin of moving the Dallas. This house hates us, wants us to go away and give it back to James and Doug. They can have it.
It seemed like a regular Friday afternoon. Buster had gotten a rawhide bone to chew on this morning, so he'd vomited two times earlier in the afternoon. You know, the usual. I took a shower, because BK and I had a hot date of dinner and a movie this evening. As I was showering, I noticed that the drain seemed to be a little blocked up, and I made a mental note to buy some Drano. When I stepped out of the shower to towel off, there were still a few inches of standing water. Ok, not ideal, but no big deal.
Then I made a big mistake. I decided to pee.
When I flushed, time stopped. The world stood still as the toilet began to violently overflow, gallons and gallons of nastiness spilling out over the tile floor, making a mad rush for the legs of the wooden armoire we'd recently bought. That was when I began to officially Freak Out, sprinting naked to the other bathroom to get the plunger, sprinting back and wildly plunging away at the cackling toilet that was still burping up the funk of 50 thousand years onto our floor.
That, my friends, was not, as Seinfeld would say, good naked.
Eventually the toilet stopped. I threw on some clothes and gathered up an armful of old towels and walked back into the bathroom to begin mopping up the mess. That's when I saw it. The most horrifying thing I've even seen. A cloud of blackness erupting from the shower drain, slowly spreading out in the standing water. I Freaked Out More and began plunging the shower drain to no avail. All I succeeded in doing was mixing the cloud with the standing water, reaching this effect:
This is what our master bathroom now looks like. This is what it looks like after the most awful thing in the world happened.
I left BK many Freaked Out voicemails. He turned out to be on his way home. When he got here, he patted me on the back and changed into his swim trunks, assuring me it was just a little blocked drain, nothing to worry about. He valiantly plunged the toilet until the black muck started flowing out of it as well, then bravely waded into the swamp that used to be our shower and plunged away at that until I Freaked Out the Most Ever, squatted on the floor and emitted a kind of low keening sound as I cried and laughed hysterically at the same time.
There is a plumber coming. This man will charge us $108 for the first 30 minutes of his services, and $30 for each additional 15 minutes. We don't care. We will pay anything to make this nightmare go away. We are quivering with fear as we wait in the living room watching Barbara Walters bid a fond adieu to 20/20. Some giant pipe must be broken! A root is overtaking things! We think there is a wet spot in the hallway under the carpet. There will be excavations! And drillings! There will be thousands and thousands of dollars spent, all to punish us for the unpardonable sin of moving the Dallas. This house hates us, wants us to go away and give it back to James and Doug. They can have it.
posted by Karo at 9/17/2004 08:18:00 PM
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