Those who've known me a long time know that malfunctioning toilets in my home will send me into paroxysms of twitchy anxiety. Avoiding TMI, I'll simply say that a malfunctioning toilet at our last rental place, the repair of which was massively mishandled by our then-landlords, meant that for many days we'd have to go to a nearby 24 hour grocery store to find a working biffy.
Coming out of a sound sleep at 2 a.m. with the knowledge that one needs to use the bathroom, then having to get dressed, walk to the car and drive 10 minutes to the store (and buy at least something so that one isn't pitched out the front door for using facilities meant only for shoppers) is the stuff of which many subsequent plumbing nightmares were made.
Last night, our toilet started acting up. A trip this afternoon to a Home Depot to pick up a toilet auger put us back $70, but did not solve the problem. My Best Beloved, by dint of loads of work you need not read about, has made it partly usable.
Early hour trips to the local grocery are, however, still in the realm of probability.
I've checked myself all day for just how much stress this situation has been generating, and I'm pleased to say that it's only about a 6 on a scale of 10. I imagine that's largely because we're calling a plumber tomorrow morning - first damn thing in the morning - and we're going to make sure that the problem gets fixed before Monday night.
But really, having this kind of situation pop up is still stressful. I. Hate. Plumbing. Problems.
End of story.
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