Of toilets and pink eye

I will not be showing you pictures of either toilets. Or pink eye.

That would be kind of gross… no?

But of course, I will tell you about them. Not that any of it is particularly exciting. Or interesting. But you see, I'm procrastinating yet again, having received a mildly disappointing mark on my last assignment and only having one assignment left. And only a couple weeks left to finish up. So it would make sense that I would be doing anything at all that would help me avoid thinking.

Of course.

Finleigh had pink eye. Maybe. She's not contagious anymore.

Fascinating stuff, pretty sure you're glad you came today.

Then… when she was home… not spreading her germy germs all over the other children's eyes… the toilet plugged.

And I mean plugged. The kind of plugged where a couple plunger plunges doesn't fix it. Mildly improves, perhaps. Pre-empts an overflow, thankfully. But it would not flush.

Plunge, plunge, swoosh, swish, splash.

Nothing.

Try again.

Nope.

Sigh… I walked away, hoping Finleigh wouldn't stealthily use the toilet when my head was turned. And left if for Brian to take care of when he got home. Because that's what I do. Wait for him to do it.

She fell asleep.

I had to pee. And went upstairs because the toilet was clogged downstairs. And that's when I thought to myself, "What would I do if - heaven forbid - Brian wasn't around anymore. Would I call a plumber? My dad? Ridiculous. I can do this myself."

And so, I stood over that ugly, 30 year old, almond coloured toilet and I plunged some more.

Swoosh, swish, splash.

Nothing.

Again.

Nothing.

Again.

Argh.

I will NOT let this toilet beat me.

Again… swoosh, swoosh, swish, swish, splash, bigger splash.

And then it happened… that satisfying sound of water flushing all the way down the toilet.

Oh yes! Victory. Victory over the plugged toilet full of excessive toilet paper because a certain little blonde girl likes to use lots of it. Sometimes a whole roll if we're not watching.

A little bit of patience. Some determination. And a whole lot of independence. That's all it took to fix a little household problem. And I did it all-by-myself, as Finleigh would assert.

Next up? Maybe I'll just go ahead and reno that bathroom all-by-myself! That's only just a small leap, right? From plunging a toilet to replacing it? They're both toilet related, after all.