It’s a lucky thing that I write these entries ahead of time. If not, I would have just disappeared off the face of the earth a couple of days ago and my weblog would have been silent. Here’s a sample of what my personal journal entry looked like a couple of days agoï¿½
This year has come in like a lion, so I’m hoping it goes out like a lamb. If it holds for March, maybe it will hold for the year. We noticed that the drains were slow a week ago. Yesterday, they became impassable. When I took my shower late in the day, the tub took thirty minutes to drain. The toilet caused an overflow downstairs, so we called a roto-rooter-type place called The Drain Doctor.
Drain Butcher was more like it. It was all downhill from there. He came at five this morning and ran the roto-thing down the toilet drain. The drains seemed the same, but he said it would take couple of hours to fully drain. With trepidation, we paid him and let him leave. We hoped, rather than believed, that he was right.
By 10:30 am, we knew he was wrong. We called the Drain Doctor again and asked them to send him back. By the time 12:30 pm rolled around, we gave up on his coming and called them again. The plumber finally called at 1:30 pm with a lame excuse about just barely getting our page and would be there in 45 minutes.
He finally showed up, put the camera down the drain a mere ten feet and found water. Surprise, surprise, it wasn’t draining. Just like we had said on the phone (and knew before we even let him leave), the clog hadn’t gotten any better, so he went to get the super jet-rutter thing and a helper. They tried the small jet-rutter, then they tried the huge jet-rutter, which they ended up getting stuck in our pipes.
By 8:00 pm, they just cut off the jet-rutter hose and said they’d call us back tomorrow to get it out. Mike and I hadn’t used a rest room for nine hours. Additionally, Mike hadn’t slept at all the night before, so he had been up for over 24 hours straight. We were ready to freak out.
Thank God for Mom and Reed. They are letting us stay overnight in their Taylorsville condo. There is a bed and a washing machine. Most importantly, there is a toilet that can flush. We can shower here and do the laundry. We brought Sid and I am so grateful to them. I’m sure really good karma is coming their way as we speak.
I forgot to mention the most spectacular part of the whole thing. When they were using the smaller jet-rutter, they forgot to put a plug on the hole in the bathroom where the toilet had been, so a huge geyser of water sprayed our entire bathroom. Water that had been through the sewer pipes, mind you. I’m amazed that I didn’t break down and lose it right there. It is still unclean and lying open as we speak. Mike and I just left the cats at home, grabbed Sid and our laundry and drove to the condo.
Ironically, I think I asked for this. I sometimes feel like I control the universe because I am here, living what I asked for. Two weeks ago, Mike and I were going to run away. We were going to take a couple of extra days and go to Vegas or Boise for a quiet getaway. I told him that I wanted to relax and do nothing, so we decided to stay home. We were going to clean the house from top to bottom and then I was going to stay at home and just write and read and crochet. I was going to unplug and hide. No TV, no shopping, just a clean house, writing in my journal, reading a good book, crocheting the afghan, and listening to music.
As we speak, that is exactly where we are. We are hiding and isolated at Reed’s condo. No TV. Just my MP3 player, my book that I got from Stacey for Christmas, this journal and the dog at my feet. I am sitting next to the heater vent and I am unplugged. This is exactly the escape I was hoping for. I was planning on getting it at my house, but here, there is no choice. I have to unplug because there is nothing here to plug in. I’m doing laundry, which falls right into my cleaning house gig. Once we get this drain problem solved, that house is going to receive a cleaning like it has never seen before. That damn geyser hit the fucking ceiling.
I feel totally contaminated. I should take a shower as soon as I have some clean, dry clothes to change into. It is 10:45 pm and I vow to finish the laundry before I go to bed. While we waited for the plumber to come, I napped, so I can work a little extra right now. I also crocheted an entire skein on the afghan while I waited for them to get their shit together.
So, I’m vacationing in a strange house. Just me, Mike and Sid. Mike is finally sleeping. Sid, uneasy, scared, and feigning sleep, is at my feet. I am writing because that is what I do when I’m upset. I write. I put pen to paper and let all the frustration flow out of my mind, out of my heart, down my right arm and right into the paper. I just took a deep, cleansing breath. I can feel the stress leaving me. Tomorrow, we will meet the Drain Doctor at our damaged and abused home. They will correct the drainage problem. They will remove their damaged and abused equipment from the pipes of our home. All will be right with the world tomorrow. I just have to get through tonight.
The entire house has experienced the joy of Clorox. It only took $488 to get the damn thing out of our pipes. Our drains drain. Our toilet flushes. Our water flows. For nowï¿½ The ominous prediction of future problems looms. It’s an 80 year-old house, and I’m still writing.