West End Christmas (or, I tried to get my x-mas shopping done early but some shit came up.)
Yesterday morning, aka Christmas Eve, I woke up good and early and in a decent mood. My intention was to head over to work and pick out some cycling related gifts for my little brother, wrap everything, and then head to my mom's to drink Bloody Mary's and make fudge. As a self proclaimed Scrooge, I was actually in a decent mood and hadn't yet been overtaking by the sense of impending doom that usually comes with the holidays.
I got up, got ready to get in the shower, took my morning pee, flushed, went to turn the shower on, and noticed a gurling sound coming from the toilet.
Turns out that instead of flushing away my pee and toilet paper, the toilet was reverse-flushing brown water filled with chunks of toilet paper, shit, and what looked like food processor waste. This quickly spilled over the toilet seat and onto the floor.
My first reaction was to turn around and vomit in the sink. Then I called my boyfriend.
"Domenick, you have to help me!," I screamed, "There's shit all over the bathroom floor and it isn't even mine!"
This isn't the type of phone call that I would get out of bed for. Domenick, however, said he would be right over.
At this point my roommate Isaac came out of his room, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"
"Get back in your room," I yelled, "You don't want any part of this!" We didn't need any more vomit.
Domenick arrived, put plastic bags on his feet, and checked out the scene. "Fucking Christ. Go downstairs and see if they are having problems too," he commanded.
I pounded on the door to the second floor and wife answered. They were dressed up and obviously getting ready to bring their new baby to some nice family function.
"Merry Christmas," I said, "is your toilet overflowing?"
"No, she said, but our bathroom light fixture just filled up with water."
Meanwhile, Domenick had given up. "Your plunger sucks," he said, "You need to call your landlord."
My landlord is very low on my list of people to engage in conversation. He's incompetant. And kind of unpredictable. And really weird.
I called him and explained the situation as best I could. He said he would be over as soon as possible.
"Okay, looks like you guys are all set." Dom took the plastic bags off his feet and went home. Can't say I blame him.
Isaac and I sat in the kitchen for about an hour, drinking coffee and wondering if we would be pissing in the sink for a while. Every once in a while the cat went up to the bathroom door and scratched at it a little. I'll remember that the next time he crawls in bed with me and puts his paws under my chin.
Eventually Mr. Landlord showed up with a bucket, a painter's mask, a plunger, and a long piece of metal. This didn't give me much hope. He opened the door. "Wow," was all he could manage. He put the mask on and shut the door.
I didn't want to be subjected to any more sounds, smells, or shit-related sensations of any kind, so I went next door to Dom's to take a very long, very hot shower and to try to wash some of images of my shit soaked bathroom floor away. To make me feel better Dom played his guitar for me, a short metal composition which he entitled, "Christmas Poop." He sang for me in his fake "moose-rock" voice, "And as I enter the house agaaaaain, the poop becomes my friend..."
When I mustered up the courage to go home again, Fernando Landlord was just finishing up. He opened the bathroom door, and to my surprise, the floor and toilet were sparkling." "I just dumped a ton of pipe cleaner down there, flushed it about 70 times and then bleached the hell out of everything. Then I threw the rags out the window."
Environmental hazards have never brought me so much joy. "It's a Christmas Miracle!," I exclaimed.
As for what caused the Providence sewer system to come caroling at my third floor bathroom, no one knows for sure. I suppose it could happen again. At any moment. My apartment could be filling with other people's shit right now for all I know.
Merry Christmas y'all.
I got up, got ready to get in the shower, took my morning pee, flushed, went to turn the shower on, and noticed a gurling sound coming from the toilet.
Turns out that instead of flushing away my pee and toilet paper, the toilet was reverse-flushing brown water filled with chunks of toilet paper, shit, and what looked like food processor waste. This quickly spilled over the toilet seat and onto the floor.
My first reaction was to turn around and vomit in the sink. Then I called my boyfriend.
"Domenick, you have to help me!," I screamed, "There's shit all over the bathroom floor and it isn't even mine!"
This isn't the type of phone call that I would get out of bed for. Domenick, however, said he would be right over.
At this point my roommate Isaac came out of his room, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"
"Get back in your room," I yelled, "You don't want any part of this!" We didn't need any more vomit.
Domenick arrived, put plastic bags on his feet, and checked out the scene. "Fucking Christ. Go downstairs and see if they are having problems too," he commanded.
I pounded on the door to the second floor and wife answered. They were dressed up and obviously getting ready to bring their new baby to some nice family function.
"Merry Christmas," I said, "is your toilet overflowing?"
"No, she said, but our bathroom light fixture just filled up with water."
Meanwhile, Domenick had given up. "Your plunger sucks," he said, "You need to call your landlord."
My landlord is very low on my list of people to engage in conversation. He's incompetant. And kind of unpredictable. And really weird.
I called him and explained the situation as best I could. He said he would be over as soon as possible.
"Okay, looks like you guys are all set." Dom took the plastic bags off his feet and went home. Can't say I blame him.
Isaac and I sat in the kitchen for about an hour, drinking coffee and wondering if we would be pissing in the sink for a while. Every once in a while the cat went up to the bathroom door and scratched at it a little. I'll remember that the next time he crawls in bed with me and puts his paws under my chin.
Eventually Mr. Landlord showed up with a bucket, a painter's mask, a plunger, and a long piece of metal. This didn't give me much hope. He opened the door. "Wow," was all he could manage. He put the mask on and shut the door.
I didn't want to be subjected to any more sounds, smells, or shit-related sensations of any kind, so I went next door to Dom's to take a very long, very hot shower and to try to wash some of images of my shit soaked bathroom floor away. To make me feel better Dom played his guitar for me, a short metal composition which he entitled, "Christmas Poop." He sang for me in his fake "moose-rock" voice, "And as I enter the house agaaaaain, the poop becomes my friend..."
When I mustered up the courage to go home again, Fernando Landlord was just finishing up. He opened the bathroom door, and to my surprise, the floor and toilet were sparkling." "I just dumped a ton of pipe cleaner down there, flushed it about 70 times and then bleached the hell out of everything. Then I threw the rags out the window."
Environmental hazards have never brought me so much joy. "It's a Christmas Miracle!," I exclaimed.
As for what caused the Providence sewer system to come caroling at my third floor bathroom, no one knows for sure. I suppose it could happen again. At any moment. My apartment could be filling with other people's shit right now for all I know.
Merry Christmas y'all.