It’s Monday night after a hard day or work and there I am, elbow deep in my own poop. How did I find myself here?
Well in our fair city of St. Louis, we had hard rain 9 days in a row. We’ve had tornados three out of the past four weekends. Every week, the drain in our basement would backup a little more, but never produced much dirt or grime. Just appeared to be rain water. It was almost a non-issue.
Then two weeks ago I noticed a bunch of dirt came up. I know it was dirt because there were those annoying little helicopter things mixed in and I know I don’t have helicopters in my poo.
Then, Sunday night, as Sallie and I start relaxing after an extremely busy weekend (at the end of an extremely busy month) the rain starts pouring. As a side note before I go to bed, I just take a look downstairs at what the damage is.
There’s a smell that reminds me of a similar situation we had in the basement. Slowly my eyes confirm what my nose guessed. Swimming in about two inches of water is toilet paper and poop.
I had a history professor that once said, civilization can be measured by how far their poop is carried from where they live. In this instance, it was about fifteen feet. The Story civilization will be extinct and the only thing left will be the drawings I made on the basement walls of me cursing while poo comes out of the drain.
So the next night I get home from work and immediately take on this task.
The basement smells rotten. I know I’m going to need to do laundry soon, so it’s inevitable. I’m going to have to clean this poo. I can’t bare to ask my wife to do this. So I put on rubber gloves and a mask, and grab the giant maintenance broom that was left by the former owners.
There aren’t many things that I prefer the smell of bleach to. Poo is one of them however. I must have used about ¾ of a giant jug of bleach and hot water to sanitize the crap outta the place. There are still places I was unable to get, but I managed to touch ever little bit of nastiness with that highly concentrated bleach water.
We’ve called a plumber who will assess the situation tomorrow. If he gives the thumbs up, I’m plugging that hole up and hopefully never touching poop again.
I hope this is just a clog. If its something more, I don't know how Sallie and I will afford to fix it. My next blog post might be a link to my paypal account where you can make charitable donations.