I didn’t notice when I finished. I didn’t notice when I flushed. It was an hour later when I had to take a leek. Toilet paper was still there, in the hole, floating. But it had happened before. Another flush would take care of it. I finished what I was doing, feeling relieved, and flushed. The water kept filling. And filling. And filling.
Fear gripped my heart. I hadn’t bought a plunger yet. How could I expect such a monumental undertaking when I sat on the porcelain the last time around? How was I supposed to know? I thought I had controlled it, but as I held down the handle, hoping the massive current would woosh away my woes, I realized I was gravely mistaken.
I let go. The water was able to drain, slowly, a relief to me. Maybe I’d try again shortly. It wasn’t as if it was going anywhere, and I couldn’t afford a plunger until December. I went to watch TV and came back, flushing once more, but to no success. My heart beat rapidly in my chest. What if I had to go number two in the night? What would happen? Though surely, if I had gone already in such a monstrous fashion, I could not possibly have to go again for some time.
More TV, and another flush, and still no response. Over and over again. Finally my heart sank. I had been defeated. I had to pee again. I went, held the handle down longer than usual as I felt obliged, and closed the lid, walking away in sour mood. But something happened as I sat down at my chair to get in more words for my novel. Something beautiful and miraculous. Something unexpected and glorious.
I heard suction as the water completely emptied out of the bowl, as it was dragged through the pipes, kicking and screaming with everything that caused the toilet to strain as I had. But it had passed, the toilet was clear, and I needed to pick up a plunger soon. Never had the toilet allowed me to feel so relieved.
Ever have something so simple bring so much happiness? Ever been scared because something you take for granted was suddenly stripped of you?
...like butta' on your toast!
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