Last Friday night, one moment I was on a beach chair in our backyard gazing up at the moon and the next, standing in my basement looking at a horror scene. Our sanitary tubs had overflowed and there was standing water on the basement floor. In that standing water sat all the laundry waiting to be washed.
That night I was burnt, so tired, brain shut down, body screaming with pain just needing to get to bed where “healing” can take place during sleep. I was in no condition to think much less address an emergency. None-the-less, here I was smack dab in the middle of a crisis. Again.
After a mad scramble to remember where the equipment was to use for this emergency, Hubby managed to drain the tubs of their water into our sump pump. Then he decides to fix the blocakage himself instead of calling a plumber. This was at midnight and getting a plumber over here at that time of the day was most likely impossible. Sooooooooo, Hubby claims he has done this before (which he has) so he will do it again.
I’m being “ordered” to do this, hold that, and me in my exhausted state could not interpret what this or that was so I stand baffled, asking what are you talking about? Usually I can understand what that man is talking about when he gets vague but not that night. My brain just would not turn back on. We ended up yelling at each other, getting absolutely no where but only angrier with each other.
Finally getting hoses and a pipe bladder together, Hubby inserts said pipe bladder in the clean out, and runs outside to see if any water is coming through the pipe that leads to the sanitary sewer. That would have meant the blockage had cleared. Meanwhile, I in the basement have both hands pressing down as hard as I can on the stoppers in the sanitary tubs so that the water will not explode upwards in a torrid gush.
Then I hear it. Water dripping. I look over and to my horror I see water leaking from another pipe over Hubby’s table saw. Instead of the water running out our exit pipe it is backing up in other pipes. Because we had water running in order for the pipe bladder to work, I could not shut the water off. If I did water would come gushing out as I take my pressure off either stopper.
So I screamed at the top of my lungs for Hubby to get back in the house and it is a miracle he even heard me for there are no windows in the front of our basement wall which is a six inch cement wall. How he heard me is still a mystery.
Running to the basement, Hubby shuts the water off and then decides to pull the bladder out in the clean out where it was. The moment he does Mt. Shitmore blows and shit water flies all over the place. The pressure was so great that it knocked my hands off the stoppers and now I was not only covered in shit as was my husband but my hands and forearms were in shit as frantically I struggle to get those stoppers back on. All of my laundry waiting for the washer was soaking now in shit.
My husband took a direct hit, he being right in front of the clean out. Friends, it really wasn’t pretty.
I put my head down on the edge of the tub and cried, shaking, just not able to take one more mishap. So darn tired I could not even cry any tears. I screamed at God, screamed at Hubby, screaming I needed a new life. I screamed among other things, “Am I cursed or what????”
We managed to get Mt. Shitmore to stop but what a mess to clean up. Thank goodness we have a dry/wet vac and with a back and body that screamed with pain I began to clean up that shit water. Meanwhile Hubby is desperately trying to call a 24-hour plumber but get this, mostly answering services were a result with only ONE person returning his call out of about seven or eight companies. Twenty four service is a bunch of hooey, at least in the plumbing world.
Around 3am, still cleaning up shit water, I could not take one more step. I couldn’t. And I could not take a shower either, nor Hubby, so I filled a sink with water, washed as best as I could after stripping off my filthy clothes, and I tumbled into bed. I was so upset I barely slept so I have been so exhausted up until today. The aftermath and the ramifications pay a toll.
Hubby felt so bad that he did not call a plumber when we only had clean water on the basement floor, he wrung out every piece of laundry that was on the floor for me. I am talking five large loads of laundry. I’d gotten behind again due to the fast balls that keep on coming called Life. When I found out the next morning what he did I just hugged him and OH I said I thank YOU!!!
All Saturday I washed, dried, folded, hung, and put away six (not five) loads of laundry. Not knowing how I would be able to stand much less do this, I just did it.
Seven-thirty that morning a plumber finally calls and arrangements are made for he to come here. He has this amazing snake machine that unblocks the blockage. Assessing the problem we are told we have a break in our cast iron pipe leading out of our house which goes to the sanitary sewer. We are scheduled at that time for Wednesday to get the pipe repaired.
Until we get the problem permanently fixed we cannot put any toilet paper in the toilets. Sweet. So we are throwing our used toilet paper in a bag then putting that in the garbage. Another plumber who our neighbor highly recommended came out this morning to assess the damage and he almost walked away because by this time my husband is in a royal PTSD state, manic, asking stupid questions and basically making this guy feel as if he did not know what he is talking about.
That is when I ran interference and the man accepted the job. Thank goodness he did because instead of having to dig up my beautiful garden, the job can be fixed from the inside. What a Blessing! The other plumbing company that was scheduled to be here on Wednesday would have dug up my gorgeous garden, disrupting the “order” that is so evident here.
But, instead of throwing out our used toilet paper only for one more day if we had stayed with the first plumbing company, now we must do so for two weeks. That is when this second company will be able to fix our pipe.
That is my story for today. Now, Life, can you quit throwing those hardballs so that I can recoup? I mean, …. REALLY!!!
I did not take pictures of the disaster area so chose instead a beautiful Peony to offset this shit story.
MF Macro Without Tripod Photography/ “Hardballs (Again!)” 2016©AmyRose
*Sorry, friends, still planting so not blogging and still cleaning up shit.*
PS Please laugh. I actually did in some parts reading this!