Monday, November 8, 2010
Recently, we had a plumbing issue. The toilets wouldn't flush properly and when everything would finally go down the other would make gurgling sounds. When I'd plunge one, the other would have water seeping out from underneath. Murky ickiness was backing up into my shower. What's worse was the toilet paper and shit mountain that was building up in my backyard where it was all coming out of PVC pipe. It was gross. So gross, in fact, that even the dog didn't want to be anywhere near it and normally he is all about some nasty.
So now, once again we are having plumbing issues. I SWEAR I didn't flush anything this time. This time the landlord stopped by and stood next to shitty TP mountain and declared that he believed it was roots in the plumbing causing this issue. He called a plumber and told me someone would be there in the morning. ALL DAMN DAY I WAITED! No plumber. Around four o'clock, I called the landlord to let him know I was still having potty issues. He called the plumber again and was told that he was still coming but that he was just backed up...no pun intended.
That night my husband and are discussing the difficulty of getting a plumber out to the house. My husband was concerned that there was some sort of plumbing epidemic and all of the city's plumbers were called out to battle the pipes. Apparently, no other plumbers are as skilled as our town's very own conquering heroes.
Remember I mentioned roots in the plumbing? This is all too familar. Years ago, we lived in an older house that had the same issues occasionally. The worst was when I was hanging clothes in the backyard and noticed they didn't smell too hot. That's when I found out the sewage was backing up into the washing machine I doing laundry in. NICE!
Back to the present...
The plumber finally showed up. It was the same guy as last time. The first thing he says to me is "You din't go flushin no feminim hygeine pro-ducts down the drain, did yer?" Apparently, this guy knows too much. I may have to have him assassinated or something. In the very least, send him a christmas card.
You know, Mr. Fix-it was in and out in less then 15 minutes! I waiting over 36 hours for him to bolt through here like nothing was ever wrong. That was looooongest 36 hours of my life...well except for the bus trip. Seriously, I had to keep convincing myself during that time that I did NOT need to go to the restroom.