"Overflow"

I wonder what this will be about? Hmmmmm . . .

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Actually - the picture isn't quite accurate - but I will get to that in a minute. Let me back up a bit. San Angelo. 1999. Our first house. There isn't anything about San Angelo that we didn't like. It was picture perfect. Getting used to living in a house was a little bit of an adjustment - but not one that we minded at all. It was pretty exciting actually. I think we felt like we'd finally reached adult status to a degree. It was a three bedroom - two bathroom house - with the master bedroom connected to its own bath. We quickly got used to the little upkeep and maintenance things that come along with being in a house and decided we really liked it.

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Bob worked so close to home that he came home each day for lunch. It was such a dream! Well - one day he came home - ate lunch - visited the loo (hahaha) and left for work again. It was a lovely uneventful lunch break - one of no particularly special note. We carried on with our day as usual. About an hour and a half (let me repeat AN HOUR AND A HALF) later I went to retrieve something out of our master bedroom. I casually and unsuspectingly walked into our bedroom and instantly realized my feet were wet. Not only were my feet wet - but as my foot sunk into the soaking sopping wet carpet - my foot was nearly covered in water. As my brain slowly processed this information - I began to realize this was not right. My feet were not supposed to get wet as I walked in my room. My next thought was - there's no water source in our bedroom - ooohhp! whoops! wait-a-sec - but there IS water in our bathroom - clear on the other diagonal side of the room. This brilliant realization seemed to suddenly coincide with the whooshing, splashing and spraying sound I could hear coming from the general direction of INSIDE OUR BATHROOM!!!!!!

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Now I like to consider myself a tough girl. Able to handle pretty much whatever falls in my path. My Dad taught me many things to be confidently self-sufficient in basic home and other ensuing social/auto repair/civic situations, etc. (that's quite a combo) So onward I plunged (hahaha! pun not intended! I crack myself up!) (ok - focus!) As I opened the cracked door to our bathroom I was in no way prepared for the situation that slapped me in the face. Literally. I'm not kidding. I'd never seen anything like it in my life. To this day - I'm a little hazy on the details. I tend to block deeply traumatic moments.

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When I opened the door I was immediately sprayed by a wild water hose from the back of the tank that had come to life and was clearly enraged that one end of it was still stuck in the toilet tank. It was contorting and flipping wildly - like a seething snake from Medusa's head. It must have sensed my presence because I immediately became its primary target. There was frantic shock as I tried to process what was going on. I knew I was soaked. By toilet water. Which toilet water? I didn't quite yet know. Nonetheless - it was toilet water. And I was drenched. I tried to scream - but the hose that seemed to be alive used my moment of weakness to its advantage and sprayed me cleanly in the mouth. Gagging, spitting, screaming at the same time - I was filled with outrage - and jumped back from the doorway - slamming the door shut. I was losing a battle with my own toilet.

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At some previous point - the toilet had signaled it's angst and tried to warn us of impending doom. Hence the lid to the tank had been removed - but the issue clearly had not been fully addressed or resolved. In this moment of heroic desperation - I knew what I had to do. I must bravely and boldly go into the enemy territory - retrieve the lid and somehow replace it to control the wild beastly raging tube that had reigned that bathroom for the past hour and a half. I would win. I had to. Failure was not an option. I braced myself for what was about to happen - taking a deep breath - for I had learned not to open my mouth again. (it was about the only time I learned that lesson! hahaha)

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The entire dash to the toilet was probably under 5 seconds - but time had slowed to slow motion and the tube sensed the end was near. In a final chance to release it's wrath - it poured out with a renewed vigor. It seemed as though it was slapping me across the face - back and forth - mocking my efforts. I recall screaming (I opened my mouth again!) and gargling at the same time - drenched head to toe. I grabbed the lid - wrestled momentarily with the hose - and slammed it on. Normally a sense of victory would have been appropriate - however - I had been humiliated. By a tube. A toilet tube. Drenched with toilet water. In my mouth.

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As I looked around the bathroom - and the pond that used to be our bedroom - I knew my part of the battle was over. I slogged back through the bedroom -soaking wet - mascara running down my face - to greet two toddlers with wide-eyes and fearful looks - backing away and mumbling "Mommy what happened?" in a soft tone - not really expecting or wanting an answer. I reached for the phone - dialed Bob's work number - and as he answered in his wonderful middle-of-the-day-what-could-possibly-go-wrong office greeting voice - I could only utter in a low trembling voice "COME. HOME. RIGHT. NOW." Being the only time I have ever made such a demand - he sensed perhaps something was not quite right - and made it home in 2 1/2 seconds flat.

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As I recall - Bob knew exactly what to do - got rid of the water - and aired out/cleaned up the soaking mess. Oh - and he fixed the toilet too. (It didn't even so much as shudder when he opened the lid) But I swear - that's how it happened. Until now - no one knew of the intense battle that raged inside that room that day. It was a brave and valiant battle. And now - may the legend live on forever. The day I alone conquered the toilet. May all toilets tremble in fear.