Though my husband has no trouble dissecting laptops, computers, or printers, he has trouble working up any enthusiasm for plumbing repairs. After a visit to urgent care this morning, he was diagnosed with a monster sinus infection. I don’t doubt that he’s ill, but you have to admit that with the broken toilet downstairs, the timing is a little suspicious.
“I think I’ll do some work in the yard,” I said after returning from the pharmacy with all three of his prescriptions.
“I think you should fix the toilet,” he said.
I gave him the ‘you’ve-got-to-be kidding’ look, but the truth of the matter was…if my family was going to have a working toilet, it was up to me. I tried to muster up some pioneer spirit, which was rather difficult being that my ancestors were California Indians and had the good sense do their “business” behind a tree. After watching an 8-minute how-to video on You Tube, I announced that I didn’t have the right tools.
“Well you have the bucket anyway,” he said, then fell asleep, leaving me to figure what to do.
After two trips to Home Depot, a lot of swearing, and a huge wet mess, I managed to turn the water off, get the toilet off the ground, remove the tube of medication that had caused the blockage that the snake couldn’t get to, and then scrape off the old wax seal. In the back of my head I remembered the plumber from the video warning me about the dangers of methane gas but I had bigger worries. After crawling on my hands and knees through dirty flood water, I had the sneaky suspicion I had fecal matter in my hair. BTW those aren't tears, I'm just a little unhappy about the connector coming loose and spraying me in the face.
The floor is ruined and the toilet now has a rocking chair quality that I don’t remember it having before. Tomorrow is another day though. Another You Tube video, another trip to Home Depot, another attempt to attach the wax seal.
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