Hell's Giftshop

Is the world going to hell in a handbasket? I don't think we're quite there yet. I would say we're close. We're more like...in Hell's Giftshop.

Name:
Location: Colorado, United States

I'm a 43-yr. old music lover, off-road enthusiast, camper, gotta-be-outside mountain chick.

Monday, December 10, 2007

The Honeymoon is Decidedly Over

So, sadly, the "new house" glow has that kept my happy new homeowner's face flush with happiness the past four weeks has literally been FLUSHED away.

Sunday morning was busy house cleaning before the Cowboy game came on. I was running the dishwasher, I was running the washing machine, I was Swiffering my Pergo floor. At the conclusion of the Swiffering task, I opened the laundry room door to place my Swiffer in the handy-dandy wall mount I put up to keep such cleaning utensils organized and freakishly efficient...and found the floor flooded.

With swift action, after screaming a very, very bad curse word, I unplugged the washer and turned off the water, not sure where the water was coming from. The toilet in the half-bath connected to the laundry room was overflowing so I also turned the water off there. I ran downstairs to survey how much water had come down, and my master bathroom had water on the floor and running down the walls...there was water dripping out of the switch plate, for pete's sake. That can't be good. I mean, really. Do you call an electrician or a plumber for that?

So, I grab clean towels from the linen closet, because of COURSE all my dirty towels were in the washing machine, and race back up the stairs, Scooter fast on my heels, which makes managing a crisis a bit difficult, when you are trying to side step an Australian Shepherd with a ball in his mouth.

Back upstairs, I toss the towels on the floor and start mopping up. My plunger is unable to unstop the toilet and the bowl is so full it's sloshing all over the floor as a result of my manic plungering.

Meanwhile, the Cowboy game has started and I'm pissed because I wasn't watching it wrapped up in a blankie in my rocking chair like I planned.

After 15 minutes of unsuccessful plungering, I do what all people do when they are faced with uncertainties...I googled it. "Toilet. Overflow. Washing. Machine." Lots of hits with that combination, let me tell you.

So I find out that most likely there is a clog in the line that caused this backup from the washing machine. I needed something stronger than a plunger. So I call my friend J, who is happily among the throng of Christmas shoppers at the mall. She has a drain "snake," and I thought that would be the next step. So here she comes with the snake. We snake the toilet and are unsuccessful. Nada. Still won't flush, but the water is slowing going down the bowl.

Meanwhile, I have to pee. Bad. I decide to try the master bathroom. I don't flush. Gross. But I feared I would have more than grey water from the washing machine all over the floor if I did.

So, while I'm downstairs, J comes down and asks if I hear water running. She follows the source of the water sound and opens the hot water heater closet...and there's water just POURING out of the ceiling, down every pipe, and squirting out of a half-screwed in plug. Again, I yell a very, very bad word.

More towels. There is much sitting on the stairs with my head in my hands. More very, very bad words.

At least Dallas was winning.

So, there's nothing I can do but turn off the water upstairs and call a plumber.

That was yesterday. The plumber came today and Oh My GOD he had plumber's crack when he bent over. I kid you not. It was this whole plumbing caricature, is what I'm saying. High-larious. And he weighed about 300 pounds, which was a good thing, because he took the brunt of the water that came spewing out of the pipe when he loosened that already-loose plug. Bits of toilet paper all over his bald head, on his back, on my walls. But that's another story...

Cost so far: $120.

More soon...