How I Spent My Friday Night

I wish I could say I had a romantic evening with my husband. But, I can't. Oh, I was with my husband, all right. But it was anything but romantic.

We spent the evening with our heads in the toilet. And I mean that literally, not figuratively.

For the last few months, our downstairs loo has been on strike, refusing to cross the flush line. It was like that little engine that thought it could. It would swirl around, make a lot of noise and then just slowly, slowly, slooooooowwwwwlllllyyyy . . . not flush. It was really giving our otherwise fabulous water closet a bad name. And a tiny bit of a bad smell.

Ron diligently replaced every part that he thought he could replace short of buying a whole new toilet and it still wouldn't cooperate. So tonight, he asked for me to help him sort it out. We shortly deduced that the problem was in the tiny hole toward the bottom front of the bowl. We could feel stuff floating around in it so we alternately flushed the toilet and stuck our fingers in that little hole, trying to free the offending bits. (I am tempted to make a very rude remark, but I know it's not necessary . . . ) That didn't work so well so we started using a roach clip (that's not really what it's used for - it's some sort of fly fishing implement that Ron has. At least that's what he told me it is), and tried to grab the loose pieces (which turned out to be cork and plastic. And no, Ron hasn't been tossing his wine corks in there). Anyway, that's when it got funny. It was like trying to catch a really shy sea urchin. We could see just a fraction of the suckers and as soon as we would put our hands in the water it would float out of sight. So, I just started leaving my hand in the bowl when Ron flushed it. It was actually quite invigorating.

About an hour and a half later, we had dislodged one hard plastic disc and about six pieces of cork. There's still one elusive piece of plastic floating around, but it can wait until tomorrow. My hands are shriveled and I cut my finger on that dang hole. I know, paybacks are hell.