The softball that wasn’t Pt. 3 The battle of the bathroom

Timeline: 4 days after departure

I woke up the next morning to the birds chirping and the sun shining through the slats of my blinds. I knew I was going to be victorious in the battle of the bathroom. The vinegar pulled through in a pinch as the ultimate household product and all was right in the world. Lol, just kidding! The vinegar did absolutely nothing. At this point, Liam’s not so soft ball had me wondering if poop wasn’t the only thing clogging this toilet. Pleading with my eight-year-old to just tell me the truth and he wouldn’t get in trouble, lead us circling back to where we started. A toilet clogged and no resolution in sight. Refusing to call a plumber but seriously thinking that may be my only option, I decided to do what any sensible person with internet access would do- I Googled.  

Scrolling down the list of methods as I mentally checked off what I already did. Using a plunger, check. Pouring hot water, check. Pouring vinegar (go figure, this actually was a thing), check. Coat hanger? Well, why not. I put my phone down and went searching for a metal coat hanger. While struggling to straighten out the hanger, another thought popped into my head. What if the hanger is too short? I didn’t have dish gloves and honestly, I would have preferred a hazmat suit. Unfortunately, all I had available was black latex gloves. You know- the kind that splits open at the slightest bit of tension. As ready as I could be with what I had available, I once again entered the arena; my fate hanging in the balance, armed with a twisted piece metal and nothing more than a thin layer of latex barely covering my wrist. I slid the coat hanger down into the swamp that was once my toilet. I fed the metal into the drain while dangerously losing inches of what I had to hold onto. When the coat hanger reached the curve in the pipes, I knew I was in trouble. By this point I had forgotten all about the delicate latex and was more determined than ever to muscle this metal to the dragon’s layer. Stabbing at the resistance; I was hoping to break it down. Ten minutes later and sweating like a roast pig on a spit, I admitted defeat for the third time. I ended my night feeling dejected but committed to finding a solution in the morning.  

The next day, I woke up on a mission. This was my last-ditch effort to unclog this toilet. Part of my reasoning for not wanting to call a plumber was the horrifying thought of this person sifting through the muck while another part of me was already annoyed this situation would cost me $100 service call for a five-minute fix. No thank you (reminding myself I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone!) and back to the internet I went. This time Lowe’s being my destination of choice to search for a drain snake. Holy crap! (No pun intended) the prices for these things were more than I was expecting. Sorting by price I found one that was reasonable and chose my pick-up location. In a couple of hours, I would be going on an adventure. Pulling into Lowe’s with my locker pick up confirmation in hand, I confidently walked into the store. Mind you, I had never used the locker pick up service before but was excited about the convenience. “Touch to start” the screen read (okay, that’s simple enough) but then I was asked to enter my order number. Skimming through the email I found the six-digit confirmation number. “No purchases matching that order” popped up on the screen.  

By now, I’m feeling a little ridiculous standing in front of this intimidating wall of lockers trying to figure out what number I needed to enter. I went back through the email and located a 14-digit number. Why does convenience need to be so complicated? One of the larger lockers popped opened.... that’s weird. Why would they put a drain snake in a bigger locker? When I opened the door, I realized the need for the larger locker space. Apparently, when I placed the order, I was too busy looking at the prices; I didn’t think to look at the size. I collected my purchase from the locker and hauled the 50-foot drain snake to my car. Sliding it around my wrist like an over-sized fashion accessory, I strutted across the parking lot. The people passing by who were giving me side-eyed glances probably thought I either had a massive septic issue or was completely clueless. Truth is, both of those would have been correct.  

Walking through the door from my adventure lugging this anaconda on my wrist, I finally felt like I had the proper tools for the job.... minus the dish gloves.....awesome. In all the excitement over the Lowe’s locker pick up, I completely forgot my protective gear. I was too far invested into my mission for a detour. This poop was going down. Trystan and Liam stood there watching in surprise as I snipped the zip ties that confined the snake. Once the last zip tie was cut, it sprang to life and launched an attack. It violently uncoiled on the floor causing the fur beasts to scatter to the farthest parts of the house. Grabbing the business end, I made my way to the bathroom dragging the rest of the wiggling snake behind me. This time the curving pipes where no match for my new champion. I cautiously pulled the three feet of snake I needed for my victory and was nervous to discover what was on the other end. The last bit of the snake emerged from the depths with its prize. There in the jaws of the snake was a fully intact paper towel. For four days this basic household item bested me at every turn but now wilted in defeat, it hung lifeless from the ultimate septic predator. I was victorious!!!  

Trystan later admitted, when he snatched up the poop from the dog, he tossed it in the toilet with the paper towel. Later that night, I was speaking with my husband and I laughed at a comment I had made the week prior about being able to change a light bulb on my own. I think the moment I spoke those words; the universe raised an eye brow and accepted my challenge. In all seriousness, It amazes me how accomplished I felt over that win. I unclogged a toilet and gained self-confidence. So, the next time you’re feeling like you need an emotional boost, toss a paper towel in the pot and emerge a winner!  

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A sword fight at the Renaissance Festival

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The softball that wasn’t Pt. 2 A septic calamity