Thursday morning, as I was grabbing up our things to leave the house for JT's swimming lesson, JT called to me from the bathroom. "Something's wrong with the toilet," he said.
I entered the bathroom just in time to see the water rise over the rim and run down the side of the bowl. It was 9:50 am and high tide had unexpectedly arrived. As JT, the cats, and I stood in silent horror, the toilet overflowed. Though it all happened in a matter of seconds, it moved in slow motion. I snapped into action.
First, I turned off the water. Then, because water removal has become one of my leading home maintenance skills, I fetched my shop-vac and the plunger from the basement. I shop-vacced up the water and detritus (yes, to shop-vac is a verb, at least in my life it is). Then I plunged the clogged drain and watched in satisfaction as the water went back down from whence it had been coming up. I thoroughly cleaned the entire bathroom (the least said about that the better). Finally, I turned the water back on and nervously gave the toilet a sample flush. All was well.
By 10:15 we were headed to swimming lessons. We spent the rest of our day at the park. I figured that the house would be safer without us in it.
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