In the past, when "toilet problems" have arisen, there's always been a second toilet on hand to act as a back-up. Last night, as useless flush after useless flush failed to... well... flush, each rush of water in the porcelain bowl, unfortunately not accompanied by a satisfying "gurgle" indicating that all has flowed well, mocked me - saying, "Now, little prince, you've no functioning toilet at 10:45PM!"
I feared that we, like the cat, would resort to peeing on the orange chair.
Of course, as Zach constantly reminded me through the closed bathroom door (I wouldn't let him in), a possible solution lay a foot away - the plunger.
Me: "I can't use the plunger."
Zach: "Why? Is it gross?"
Me: "Of course not. Something's plugging up the pipe down where we can't see it."
Zach: "The plunger'll fix it."
pause
Me: "But... what if?..."
Zach: "What?"
Me: "What if it doesn't fix it? What if, instead, it brings up something gross?"
Zach: "Huh?"
Me: "You know... something regrettable."
Zach: "Jim, it won't. Let me in and I'll show you."
Me: "No, I've used one before."
Alas, I had indeed. For a relative who was afraid to take care of the problem him/herself. And, alas, it did bring up something... regrettable. Since I vowed at that moment that I'd never again see anything regrettable, I simultaneously vowed to use plungers only as a last resort. And I wasn't there yet.
Unfortunately, I hadn't bet on seventeen pages on the yeast cell cycle due the next day.
Me, opening the bathroom door: "I have to do homework."
Zach: "So you'll let me take a look?"
Me: "No! Don't go in there."
Zach: "But Jim, I'll fix it."
Me: "No. I'll take care of it. Go to bed. I'll run by that 24-hour pharmacy later on and buy some Liquid Plumber or something.
Zach, rushing in the bathroom: "Oh, for crying in the night, James! Here's what you do."
And within two seconds, the toilet crisis had ended, with no regrets.
Unfortunately, I felt so relieved that nothing "regrettable" had occurred, I spent the next twenty minutes thanking Zach profusely. The praise has gone to his head: he now believes that two-second plunger skills now make him worth of the title "man in this relationship." When I reminded him of the time he kept trying to kiss the cat on her lips for a half hour straight, while she writhed in agony in his arms, he feigned grief.
Me: "The truth hurts, doesn't it?"
Zach: "Not really. At least I know how to use a plunger."
Me: "At least I didn't try to kiss kitty on the lips because it looked like fun."
pause
Zach: "It WAS fun."
As if to drive the point home, I'm pretty sure my cat just farted.
Posted by James at January 4, 2006 10:42 PM