I realized today, in the midst of a crisis, that I handle such situations very well. I'll try to keep it G-rated.
I had just finished relieving myself in the bathroom and, as is the case about half the time, the toilet clogged. Let me just say first that this is not just me--our toilet clogs about half the time with anyone that uses it. For some, like Caleb, it clogs about three-fourths of the time. . . (I may need to talk to him about eating more apples or something.)
Anyway, so there I was, watching the water rise to double level. I responded with the standard procedures: plunge, plunge, plunge. . . I probably plunged close to 10 times before giving the toilet another chance to jettison the contents, but it decided instead to fill up even more. I'm sure you've experienced this or something close to it. You're watching the whole thing in slow motion, it seems. The water starts approaching the overflowing point and unless something is done quickly. . . well, PERISH THE THOUGHT. Most in this situation experience something close to hysteria, a state of unmanageable fear or emotional excesses. However, Craig Estep assessed the situation and acted, all in a split second, as follows: with the water only a inch from the top, I dropped the plunger, removed the tank lid and, while setting it down, pulled up on the "floaty device," thus preventing the impending flood disaster.
With one hand on the floaty, I grabbed the plunger and plunged with the greatest of caution until the water flushed.
I then spent a few moments congratulating myself on handling the situation so deftly, followed by a period of reflecting how this nature of mine might one day save many a life.
Let's hope I find that this bathroom response transfers to the operating room before a PERSON'S plumbing AND life are on the line--not just a gross floor.
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What poise, what grace. Way to outsmart the toilet. By the way, this is perfect blog material. I love hearing about the heroic efforts in everyday situations. You recounted the experience quite well.
ReplyDeleteAnd I think it is all plumbing at Stadium Terrace. The girls of ST 17 may or may not have a similiar story... but no one would claim the contents in the toilet. Thus, Becky and I had to take care of it. I kid you not, I wore gloves and a face mask.
Keep posting.
We could use as a standard the instance involving the south bathroom and the gentlemen downstairs... With no one as adept as Craig to handle the situation, trauma ensued: therefore, not only is Craig graceful, poised, and heroic, but is more so than the rest of us in #40 (at least those of us that have undergone such trials). I appreciate the G-rating while still moving me with detailed descriptions ("floaty device") of the valor practiced inside my very own apartment. Bravo, Craig, bravo.
ReplyDeleteHAHAHA! Craig! This was terrific and a half! I read it, and the first thing I thought was, "Wow, sounds like something that would happen in our apartment." I'm glad to hear that ST 17 isn't the only apartment in the complex with plumbing issues. Think of all the people too afraid to come forth with such valuable housing information.
ReplyDeleteAlso, when Rebecca says that she wore gloves and a face mask for this particular incidence, she wasn't doing any of the work. We all know it was Becky's courage that got rid of the festering situation.
Give me some credit, come on! As I recall you wouldn't even come out of your room Jessica. I helped, and you know it!
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