Syntaxtual Healing

I know what you're thinking. Toilet snakes. Nope, nothing came up out of the toilet and bit me on the bum.

Now, before I tell this story, let me tell you that if you are squeamish about poop, 1. Why are you reading this blog? 2. Don't read this post. 3. Get over yourself. Poop is often funny, sometimes horrifying, but is always a fact of life. Every living organism poops. You poop.

Poop.

So, over the 4th of July weekend, we had friends visit with us. Please note, I am in no way implicating or blaming said friends for my new-found poop fear. I am just setting the stage for exactly how horrifying this was.

The weekend was wonderful. We ate outside, we visited the shore, we watched movies. We had a nice, relaxing time. Until "the incident."

Sunday morning, I woke up with a plan in my head to fix us all breakfast before our friends hit the road to head home. My usual routine in the morning involves a visit to the bathroom to take out my mouth guard (I grind my teeth at night), take my morning pills (so I don't sneeze all over the place, among other things), etc.

I head into the bathroom, start my routine, and realize that the bathroom smells...off. Maybe one of the cats just visited the litter box? Did someone get sick after I woke up at 6 to feed them breakfast? I knew it wasn't the toilet, as D and I were both sound asleep until just now.

And then...I see it. Our corner garden tub. It's got...poo water in it. Now the smell has overpowered me and I'm running into the bedroom shouting about poop in the bathtub and that I'm going to throw up from the smell.

Logic eventually came back to me, and we realized we obviously needed to plunge the tub as step #1 in the process. The plunger. In the guest bathroom. Now I have to knock on the door and tell my friends I need the plunger. They're going to think I took a giant shit first thing in the morning and stopped up the toilet. In all honesty, I wish it would have been that over what we had, or what I soon found out we had.

*Knock knock* "Hey...Sorry to bother you guys, but can I grab the plunger? We have..a...uh...situation going on with our bathtub."

"Did the toilet back up into the tub? It did that in here, we had to plunge it."

*Cue me dying of shame*

MY GUESTS HAD TO PLUNGE POOP OUT OF THE SHOWER SO THEY COULD BATHE IN MY HOUSE.

After being resuscitated, I took the plunger, took care of business, washed my hands 10 times, and cooked everyone breakfast.

We managed to resolve things without an emergency plumber call on a Sunday, and so far so good. But let's be honest, would you want to poop in your own house when the possible result is poop in the bathtub? I thought I would have to wait for babies before knowing the joy of poop where poop is not supposed to be.

Needless to say, I'm currently terrified of pooping in my own house, so if you spot me at a Starbucks or a bookstore early in the morning or late at night, get out of my way. I have an appointment with a tub-free public bathroom.