The Toilet-eth Runnethed Over

Please do not flush anything but toilet paper down the toilet.

I see this sign and signs like it everywhere. I should probably hang them up in my bathrooms at home.

You know when you reach for the toilet paper and there’s none there?

But instead of running upstairs, where you store the toilet paper, you just run to the kitchen and tear off a piece of the paper towel roll?

And you rationalize putting it down the toilet because, well, it’s just one piece of a paper towel and how bad could it be to flush it down the toilet?

(Hypothetically speaking, of course, because I have never done this, especially not last Friday morning.)

Well, someone must have done this at my house. Because when Mom came over Friday afternoon and flushed the toilet in my downstairs bathroom (using actual toilet paper, of course, because like a responsible homeowner I had replaced the toilet paper roll just before she came), we had a big problem.

I was in my living room, happily typing away on my laptop, when I heard Mom scream, “JAAAAAAAANNNEEEE!!!!!!!!!” from the bathroom.

The last time I had heard my name in such a blood-curdling voice from Mom’s mouth was about 7 years ago, when my childhood dog Cracker brought a possum in from our backyard and placed it on the kitchen floor behind Mom as she washed dishes.

So understand me when I say that I was not exactly waiting with bated breath to find out what she was screaming about the other day.

But I knew I had to.

I trepidly walked toward the bathroom, at which time I heard it. The whoosh of water coming up from the toilet… and soon the splash of said water overflowing onto my bathroom floor.

For some reason, I am calm in these types of situations. My mind was going through the steps we would need to take - a.) stop the flow; b.) get towels; c.) –

But before my mind could even get to “c” not-so-calm-in-these-situations Mom was simultaneously screaming, “CALL DAD!” and “IT WON’T STOP!” and “AHHHHHH!” and “WHERE’S YOUR PLUNGER?” and “HAVE YOU CALLED DAD YET!?”

Luckily, Dad’s business is about a mile from my house, so he was able to rush over to help us. In the meantime, though, I had located a ton of old towels (meant for wiping off muddy dog paws) to soak up the water.

And oh yes, there was water.

Water all over the bathroom tile. Water spilling into the hallway. Water dripping down into the basement. Oh, and I didn’t have a plunger.

Good times.

With Dad’s help, we were able to get the gushing water under control. And the towels served their purpose.

All was good within a couple of minutes and there was no permanent damage done except maybe to my ears; thank you Mom.

But let this be a public service announcement to you: Do not flush foreign objects down the toilet.

Oh, and have a plunger handy. Dad wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to transport one - in his new car - from his work to my house.

Which probably explains why there was a brand new plunger, with a bow, waiting for me when I arrived at Mom and Dad’s house this morning.

You know, in case someone has a lapse in toilet paper judgment again.

- Jane