So if you follow me on Facebook, you may have read snippets about a broken toilet at my house. Yes. I broke the toilet. However, it was purely unintentional. I was doing good at the time. I was actually changing the toilet paper roll.
Sure, it seems like such an easy thing. Of course, if it was easy everyone would do it. Us moms know that most people in our households are incapable of doing such a small task. Yes, I will give Biggest and Littlest some credit. They re still small. As girls, they will soon enough learn the importance of a full roll of toilet paper at the ready.
Now, changing toilet paper may not cause brain damage, but it can absolutely cause toilet blockage! As I was changing the roll, the holder slipped out of the roll and dropped into the toilet, while it was mid-flush. The holder shot perfectly down the hole in the toilet and was whisked away quicker than I could grab it out! It was so perfect, it was like something out of the movies! There was no torn between being freaked out and laughing. I just started laughing. Hard. Damn, it was funny.
Once I calmed down (i.e. stopped laughing), I taped the toilet shut and put some things on top of it, to avoid using it. Then, I left a panicked message on Hubby’s phone (he was still hunting for another day or two at the time). I tried to form a plan of attack. Luckily, I have a friend who is married to and is the daughter of a plumber. Unluckily, they live four hours away. Luckily, my friend was on Facebook the next morning for a few “What the hell do I do now” questions. Now, I have to be honest. I did not love her suggestions. Some were ok. She suggested we take the toilet apart to find the holder. Some were not. She suggested I stick my hand down the toilet to dig it out manually. What the hell is that idea?
So, wanting to be the good wife (and basically look cool when Hubby comes home), I decided to try the hand-in-the-toilet idea. It was less than thrilling to me. My friend, Heather, of Samuelson Laney Plumbing, Heating, & Cooling, Inc, suggested I get a veterinary glove which extended up my arm. My first thought was, “where the hell will I get one of those”. Then I remembered. My friend Jen’s husband was a farmer. I am pretty sure she laughed her butt off after hanging up the phone on the conversation where I asked for a cow birthing glove. Once Jen, my awesome friend, delivered the glove, I was ready to go fishing.
It is never that easy. Of course I was not going to be simply reaching up and pulling out the toilet paper holder! The damned hole was freakishly small. I could barely get my hand in it. So, being the good mom I am, I wondered if my kids could do it. I hadn’t picked the kids up from school yet, so I hurried off to do so. I was surprised to find Biggest was freakishly willing to put her hand the toilet. And scared, very scared. Biggest came home, stripped off her shirt (because she meant business) and donned the big blue glove. Unfortunately, she was unable to find the lost toilet paper holder.
So this means I was forced to wait until Hubby came home from hunting. It stinks not having your own toilet (no pun intended). You have to remember to go to others. It is a lot of work (yup, laziness at its finest). Once he came home, we (i.e. he) started searching for the holder. The efforts included not only taking the toilet off its spot in the bathroom but also taking the toilet apart, thus spewing nasty toilet water and TP all over the bathroom. Gross.
So Hubby came home and saved the day. Not that he was without help! Once the toilet was off and tipped over, I was the one who crawled on the ground with a flashlight to spot the trapped toilet paper holder. Then I was the one to reach in barehanded and pull out the offending holder, once it was dislodged by a coat hander. AND, I cleaned up most of the old wax seal and the nasty….stuff….which had found its way under our toilet. Sure, it was technically my fault we had to move the toilet, but I still want some credit for the nasty stuff I did!
In the end we were victorious. It was not without some consequences. I can only blame myself. And I am now terrified of using that toilet. I am also terrified of changing the toilet paper roll. Sure, I may someday get back to doing both of those things, but it won’t be without some wariness on my part.
The night we fixed the toilet, Biggest, Littlest and Hubby were sitting at the dinner table, discussing the broken toilet. Next thing I know, I hear Biggest say, “Dad, you are like Fix It Felix. Mom, you are Wreck It Ralph.” Then I heard Littlest say, “Dad, let's make Mom sleep in the dump tonight.” *sigh* I am sure I didn’t help things later when (while wearing a red T-shirt and sporting crazy hair) started pounding on their beds yelling, “I’m gonna wreck it.”
Why fight it?
***Note: After writing this blog, Biggest told me I am no longer Wreck It Ralph. She now says I am just doomed.***