Most of you have probably figured out by now that I’m a few things:
- A magnet for the crazy in life
- Have EXTREMELY bad luck when it comes the bathrooms
- My life is oftentimes stranger than fiction, thanks to #s 1 and 2
Well, it’s happened again. I have another bathroom story to tell–and this one, while funny (sort of…) now, was anything but, on Saturday morning.
To back up, about two weeks ago, I had a contractor come out and give me an estimate on a simple repair in my bathroom. While here, he came out and asked if he could use my bathroom. A little shocked that it couldn’t wait for the five or ten minutes it’d take get a few measurements, I said sure. When I went in there after he left, the strong cloud of Febreeze choking the life out of me made it obvious that perhaps, to him, it couldn’t have waited. No big deal. The germaphobe in me wiped down the toilet with a bleach wipe and I went about my day.
On Friday, he came back to do the work in the bathroom. My master bathroom has a set of french doors leading from my bedroom to the bathroom. They’re nothing fancy, just two small water-heater doors put on opposite hinges with doorhandles that don’t actually turn. You just pull them open to go in and pull them shut behind you. No lock.
So this guy brought his five or six year old child with him (which was fine, I’ve had to bring my little kids with me places, too). While they were working in there, I was working in the the kitchen and doing whatever. The guy comes out and says, “Hey, my kid needs to use your bathroom, I just want you to know so you don’t come in there.”
I waved him off. The kid probably could have peed undisturbed in the time it took for him to come out there and tell me that, but whatever.
An hour or so later, they come out and said they’re all done and I can put all the contents back into the cabinets under my sink when I’m ready (he’d taken every single thing out to work on this project). Eager to see how it looks, I zipped into the bathroom and my eyes immediately fell on the toilet and I froze. Seriously? Is the bright silver lever on the upper lefthand side of the toilet a mystery? Oh well, realizing the guy was right behind me, coming in to explain what all he’d done (minus leaving me an unwanted gift in the commode), I quickly put the lid down and turn my attention to where he’s showing off his handiwork. I will give him this, he does a good job and I let him know that and said, “All right, let me get you a check.” Since he was closer to the door, I let him go first and I quickly flushed the toilet!
About halfway across my bedroom I heard that sound that can make anyone’s stomach fall to their toes: The Gurgle. You all know what I’m talking about. We’ve all heard it. The toilet cannot choke down the task it’s been given.
Dread overcame me and I hurried to give him his check, then run back to the bathroom, praying the floor–and consequently all of the stuff that belongs in the cabinets under my sink–is still dry!
Clutching my nearly-bursting heart, I sigh with relief when I see there isn’t water flowing over the side of my porcelain throne. Then I cringe. I should probably lift the lid and see what’s going on. Grimacing, I close one eye, hold my breath and tentatively reach forward to lift the lid…
THEN JUMP BACK!
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even more than about a thimbleful of water in the bottom of the bowl. Blinking like Alex Banks, I craned my neck to see behind the toilet. Did it hide back there, or something? Surely, I am not lucky enough to not have to deal with this.
In a state of numb disbelief, I reach for my container of bleach wipes and disinfect every surface in the bathroom. Twice.
A few hours later as I was getting ready for bed, I tiptoed into the bathroom as if there would be a monster waiting for me, then took care of business and cringed again. That blasted gurgle! But nothing. Not even water. Odd.
Nothing else to do, I went to bed.
Then 1:30 am rolled around…
Half-asleep and cursing myself for insisting I need to drink 100 ounces of water a day, I go take care of business. Then it happens: gurgle, gurgle, gargle, GARGLE! GARGLE!
Fully awake now, I flip on the light and shriek. Yes, I shrieked. Everything was coming up with no sign of stoping. Frightened and panicked, I grabbed the plunger and clad in my favorite nightgown plunged–and shrieked some more–like a madwoman.
Why does this crap (literally) always happen to me?!