There is a fear I have every time I sit down on the toilet. Yes, that dreaded feeling you get when you flush the toilet and it’s clogged. The utter disappointment in yourself when you vowed you would never let this happen again.
That was me on the last day of Spring Break. Started off a normal day; I woke up, got out of bed, then went for my morning pee, like every person does. Then I made the mistake of thinking that all that two-ply toilet paper would go down smoothly. I’m telling the truth when I say it was just too much for my toilet to swallow (just take my word for it). I had to fix this before anyone found out. I ran to get the toilet plunger from the other bathroom and I hid it behind my back when I passed my brother in the other room. He gave me a weird look and turned back to the computer screen ignoring me. I shoved that plunger into the toilet and went to business, only to see that nothing is happening..
I flushed and yet the water rose. I was about to admit my defeat but something inside me said, “you go this”, so I did what any 16-year-old girl would do; Google it. According to Google, I was doing it all wrong. The key to plunging properly is a “rapid and powerful pull out” of the plunger. Now having all the guidance needed and my confidence, I started rapidly pulling the plunger out with as much power as I felt necessary. After around 5 times just to be safe; I flushed that toilet, closed my eyes, and prayed that it worked. I got that tingly sensation you get when you’re excited but soon realized that it was the unmistakable feeling of slightly cold water attacking my toes. I just made a bigger mess and still have no clue what I’m doing. I took a deep breath and put my thinking cap back on. Being the genius that I am, I used the plunger to empty the toilet then dumped the water on the shower floor. A regular amount of water sat in that toilet bowl after three more rounds of toilet plunge scooping.
I wiped up the water from the ground and got rid of all the evidence. To add a little fun, I grabbed some wipes and attached them to the bottom of my feet and skated around the bathroom. When everything was clean, I still realized that nothing came out of that toilet hole and it might still be clogged. Acting on impulse, I took my toothbrush, stuck my hand in that water, shoved the toothbrush up there moving it around for a while, and once again prayed that this last ingenious act would do the trick. I left that bathroom feeling weirdly proud, slightly mortified and with an extremely clean left hand. My parents of course were at Home Depot during that whole process and came back just after I finished cleaning. I spent the rest of the day subtly guarding the bathroom so no one could use it until I left for my flight back to school. Now here I sit wondering if my family was kind enough not to mention anything, or if by some miracle the toilet gods were looking out for me that day. I now never hesitate to take things into my own hands; literally.