I've been meaning to post with all kinds of entertaining pics and video clips about the holidays but alas...I cannot find the usb cord to Noah's camera. I can't use my camera because I can't find the cord for that one either, so it's deader than a doornail. This is what technology has gotten me. A pile of cords that don't work.
Oh right, the reason for this post.
Sh!t happens. Literally. When I took a shower on Saturday night (after putting every single Christmas decoration away all day), I noticed the water wasn't going down. I thought, oh shoot, Michael is gonna have a fit because my hair is clogging up the drain again. When he got home, he began to investigate. He discovered that if we flushed the toilets, poo and stuff was coming back up into the showers.
"This is serious!" he said. I spared myself the sight of it all, taking him at his word. Immediately, I began to worry--its my specialty. This just can't be good. Two toilets servicing eight buttholes day in and day out cannot end well. We live in a house that was built in 1953 and I'm pretty sure the pipes have never been replaced.
We are living on a wing and prayer here, people.
Ever notice how the minute your toilet is out of order, you gotta go really bad??
I really hate when that happens.
All this went down on a Saturday night, so the chil'rens were sent to bed unbathed. We told them if they needed to use the bathroom they could only use the master bathroom...and if it was yellow, let it mellow. If it was brown...ya'll better hold it until we take you to Grandma's house tomorrow.
Sol, being the most earthy of the bunch, quickly piped up, "All I need is a shovel and hole in the backyard, Mom!"
Good ole Sol. Gotta love this boy for two things, his dimple and his ingenuity.
The rest of us weren't up to popping a squat in the backyard. We needed to get this fixed, STAT. But two days after Christmas? On a Sunday?
Michael and my stepdad worked for several hours, taking out the toilet and trying to get it all unclogged with a rented snake. I shifted in and out of denial and desperation and pity. Two things can get me in a really depressed state. Expensive household repairs and expensive car repairs. In my mind, I'm ready to pack us all up to live in a shanty town down by the riverbed.
But thank God for family. Family that doesn't want to see us pooping in holes in the backyard, unbathed after two days. They called in a plumber. He came in with an even bigger snake and got the job in done in oh, fifteen minutes. Around ten last night.
But yep, unbathed after two days. The chil'rens took baths on Christmas day. I think. Might have been Christmas Eve. It's not like they were rolling around in mud or anything. No, I'm pretty sure it was Christmas day. Heh. Anyhow, they weren't able to shower again until this morning.
And not a moment too soon. People's were starting to stink. I washed everyone's sheets because I got a whiff of stinky head.
Stinky head is gross.
And now, the house is clean. Our bodies are clean. Poop is going down, down, down where it belongs. I don't have to worry about moving into the shanty town just yet.
Waking up to the sound of a toilet flushing is a very sweet, sweet sound. You don't realize how good you have it until it's gone.