Well... it has officially happened. I have experienced my very first toilet overflow as a married women.
And it was NOT pretty.
I often imagined that with my first overflow, I would be able to implement the skills I acquired in the home I grew up in, where toilet overflows were a frequent event. I believed I was trained well, I knew all the tricks of the trade. I was a pro at twisting the metal handle at the back of the toilet with lightening speed, stopping the overflow in its tracks... or so I thought.
Welcome to reality Natasha. You are not as fast or brilliant when it comes to unclogging toilets as you think you are. No, flush your pride down the toilet (no pun intended). News flash: you don't solve overflow problems, you create them.
It really was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, the sky was blue. Then it happened, the toilet began to malfunction. It just wasn't flushing fast enough, something was fishy. I casually mentioned my concerns to Ash and told him to just keep an eye on the water when he flushed the toilet.
Everything was going fine.. until it didn't.
Poor Ash wasn't feeling to good and went to the bathroom, then it happened... he called to me from the bathroom telling me that it was clogged. It had not overflowed mind you, but it was dang close. Thankfully I was heading to my parents house and figured I would borrow a plunger, we would plunge it a couple times, and everything would go back to normal.
When I returned with the plunger Ash plunged a couple of times then it was time to flush and see if it worked. Me being the brilliant person I am said, "Wait, I have an idea" I proceeded to take off the toilet lid and pull the flush plug. What I envisioned happening was the toilet gracefully sucking all the nasty water down its porcelain hole and life going back to normal. It was a nice dream while it lasted...
What ACTUALLY happened was I pulled the plug and low and behold, the cesspool started pouring out of the toilet, the way vomit pours out of a baby after its had to much milk. I jumped back as Ash started throwing every towel we owed on the new-found swimming pool I created in the bathroom.
I felt like the worse wife ever. I didn't even have a curious toddler (the kind that stuffs the toilet full of TP) to blame the overflow on. Nope, I only had me and my own stupidity.
I thanked him, said I was sorry about 6587 times then washed my feet and hands five times and crawled into bed.
Welcome to my crazy, beautiful life.