I'm always the last to find out anything. If you haven't seen this site before, prepare to die from overwhelming cuteness. Repeatedly.
Mr. Zoom found that site and left it for me on my comptuer one day. I now spend my time cooing at it, and then cursing him for turning me on to it.
Now for my official Disclaimer, and the part of the post that relates to the title:
IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH, IF YOU FEAR TOO MUCH INFORMATION, IF YOU HAVE A LINE IN THE SAND AND YOU ARE FAIRLY CERTAIN I'M ABOUT TO CROSS IT (AND I AM), STOP READING NOW..
Are you still here? Because really, this isn't going to be pretty. And I warned you.
Alright then. On with it.
Last night Mr. Zoom was on the computer. I went to the loo. I took care of business. I flushed and to my horror, the toilet gave a wheeze and died.
In disbelief, I tried again with the flusing, and this time was rewarded with all the water filling the bowl. Threatening to overflow onto my floor with my deposits still bobbing around in there.
Yes, this is horrifying to me too. I warned you.
I shot across the house to the utility room and fetched a plunger. I did the ew ew dance while trying to fix the issue. This did nothing. I was defeated.
I went into the computer room to report to Mr. Zoom.
"The toilet's backed up" was all I managed to squeak out with the first breath. He said "Oh? It won't flush?" I responded "WITH MY POO!" And then I cried a little.
Let me just tell you that revealing to your husband that your deposits are currently floating around in what is now your broken toilet is about as comfortable as having your nekkid bum on an examiniation table and your feet in those stirrups - IF the Dr. Decided he'd like to show your isue to any number of other Dr.s and then invited about 20 more strangers in to have a look. And then asked you to "scoot down a little more please."
Mr. Zoom took care of things while I fled to the bedroom emitting the "aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" noise with "I'm going to dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" thrown in every once in a while.
Mr. Zoom got the gigles over this whole production. He came in and tried to reason with me. "I bet this happens to everyone" he said. "Oh really? I've lived 37 years now and never once heard of this happeneing to anyone I know. Nor have I ever seen it happen when I lived in a house with at least 5 occupants, sometimes more in it. I don't believe you. I'm going to dieeeeeeeeeeeeee!" was my dramatic response.
He said "Ok, I guess I have to remember that girls don't poo." I said "It's not that we don't poo, it's just that YOU AREN'T SUPPOSED TO SEE IT. EVER! Especially not that way."
And so here we are. I'm able to laugh now. Although I do now have a brand new fear. "What if this happens to me while we are at someone else's house?"