Sunday started off much like any other drizzly,
post-santacon Sunday in the city; it was cold, grey, and thoroughly enjoyable,
so long as you had a cup of tea and good book - both of which I did. Lazing on the couch, having returned
from a short venture seeking sustenance, I whiled away the morning in a state
of contented tranquility. No hint
had I, of the ensuing maelstrom (or lack thereof, as it proved to be), awaiting
me in the men’s room.
It was shortly after noon when I encountered one of those
nightmares of non-plumbers everywhere: our toilet refused to flush. I can
easily imagine a lesser man fainting when confronted with such unexpected
hardship in the middle of his day of rest. Or at least placing a desperate call
to said plumber. Not I. I took the
porcelains insolence as a declaration of war.
As I surveyed the scene, I took inventory of my considerable
advantages over this disobedient appliance; I was armed with a plunger, Youtube
videos, superior intellect and a willpower of rivaled by none. Hardly fair odds
in my opinion. After doing the
necessary reconnaissance, I confronted my adversary, plunger in hand, and
sounded the bugle.
UP! The plunger went! DOWN! The plunger went again. UP! It
came once more! CURSES! Uttered the operator! Waves thrashed violently in the
bowl below! Sweat poured off my brow as the struggle continued. In my mind, I
saw sailors hoisting the anchor with shouts of ‘HEAVE’! On, the battle raged!
Finally, in a state of exhaustion, I decided to see if any progress had been
made. I depressed the lever. Promising sounds of running water greeted my ears.
The water level rose. And ever so slowly receded. I could have thrown stones at
a castle and made more progress.
Beaten, but not disheartened, I retreated to regroup and
consider my options. One: admit defeat, call a plumber and shell out a
considerable amount of hard earned cash. Two: “If a plumber can do it, so can
I”. And Three: feign ignorance and let the roommate deal with it. I chose two,
and sallied forth into the rain to the nearest hardware store. “Do you sell any
tools that can unclog a toilet, and that also are not plungers?” I asked. He
led to a vicious looking device that resembled a pipe with a slinky sticking
out one end and a handle on the other, that cost only $30. “Insert this, threat
the slinky through the pipes and twist the handle with all your might”. This
device was the answer to my prayers.
I returned with this formidable weapon and set about at
once. I thrust the slinky into the pipe and the battle was on once more! I
twisted with all my might and shoved it deeper. Nothing yet, but I could feel
my enemy’s will begin to crack. “Aha! I have you now!” I shouted as I felt
something give way ever so slightly. I pulled back and tested the lever once
more. The water started to spin, but gave up halfway through and threw in the
towel. But I knew victory was near. With renewed vigor I attacked again!
Spinning as furiously as a drillbit, the auger encountered the obstacle in the
pipes, and this time ground it to shreds without hesitation! A mixture of
relief, victory and satisfaction swept over me. To verify the victory, the
lever was depressed a third time, and as they say, the third time’s the charm.
The most beautiful whirlpool I’ve ever seen formed in front of me, was swept
away, and replaced with perfectly flat, still water, as if nothing had ever
happened.
With my Sunday nearly stolen from me and this traumatic
hiccup in the rearview mirror, I was more than glad to return to my tea, my book,
and my peaceful way of life. I can only hope the swift and merciless response to
the toilet sent a clear message to the other appliances in the apartment,
should they get the inkling to misbehave. And with that, I shall again turn to
my tea, and bid you a pleasant evening.
No comments:
Post a Comment