After a very hectic and non-routine
past few weeks, I've slowly been settling back into my
normal everyday grind. This includes remembering certain
good habits and practices, such as avoiding the work
bathroom for a good while after my boss exits with a
look of relief on his face.
With that in mind, I squelched my instinct to dash into the bathroom immediately after his daily befoulment. Despite my discomfort, due in part to downing numerous Taco Supremes last night, I waited an hour before entering. (I've come to realize that his dumps have a half-life of about an hour before decaying into something marginally stable.)
Everything seemed fine at first. The water level in the toilet was a little lower than normal, but I dismissed it as some normal boiling-off from the foul isotopes that had occupied it earlier. Then, as I went to work, I noticed a small problem. I've found that the hotter the poop feels coming out, the nastier it's going to smell. So, realizing that the log felt approximately as warm as the surface of the sun, I concluded that a courtesy flush was in order.
I reached back, pushed the handle, and heard the gentle swirl of water. But then, it happened. Just as I was about to pass the placenta from my brown baby boy, a sudden flow of water came over the rim, and splashed my feet. Horrified, I instinctively lifed my feet off the floor. However, as Sir Isaac Newton so eloquently pointed out, Every Action Has An Equal And Opposite Reaction. Lifting my feet caused my backside to drop. And, in this case, it meant dropping right into the water. Oy.
Not knowing what to do, I froze in that position, looking like I was preparing for a gynecological exam. Then, my horror was multiplied several times. Along with the water, something brushed my cheek. Yep, poop floats! It lightly caressed my hapless bum, much
like a playful lover.
Finally, after what was probably only a scant few seconds but feeling like an eternity, I heard a whoosh, as the water whirpooled down and gurgled upon reaching the bottom. It was then that I concluded that the toilet must have had one of those dreaded hidden clogs,
the ones that show no physical evidence but knot the pipes like a cement wall. That would also explain the lower than normal water level I had observed earlier. I could only pray that the "caressing" I had experienced was from my own bowels, and not of the previous
occupant.
After using 3 rolls of Bounty to clean up the floor, I emerged from the chamber of horrors, shaken and uneasy. Seeing me emerge, my boss said, "Oh, Rich... I meant to tell you, I had a little problem with the toilet earlier."
With that in mind, I squelched my instinct to dash into the bathroom immediately after his daily befoulment. Despite my discomfort, due in part to downing numerous Taco Supremes last night, I waited an hour before entering. (I've come to realize that his dumps have a half-life of about an hour before decaying into something marginally stable.)
Everything seemed fine at first. The water level in the toilet was a little lower than normal, but I dismissed it as some normal boiling-off from the foul isotopes that had occupied it earlier. Then, as I went to work, I noticed a small problem. I've found that the hotter the poop feels coming out, the nastier it's going to smell. So, realizing that the log felt approximately as warm as the surface of the sun, I concluded that a courtesy flush was in order.
I reached back, pushed the handle, and heard the gentle swirl of water. But then, it happened. Just as I was about to pass the placenta from my brown baby boy, a sudden flow of water came over the rim, and splashed my feet. Horrified, I instinctively lifed my feet off the floor. However, as Sir Isaac Newton so eloquently pointed out, Every Action Has An Equal And Opposite Reaction. Lifting my feet caused my backside to drop. And, in this case, it meant dropping right into the water. Oy.
Not knowing what to do, I froze in that position, looking like I was preparing for a gynecological exam. Then, my horror was multiplied several times. Along with the water, something brushed my cheek. Yep, poop floats! It lightly caressed my hapless bum, much
like a playful lover.
Finally, after what was probably only a scant few seconds but feeling like an eternity, I heard a whoosh, as the water whirpooled down and gurgled upon reaching the bottom. It was then that I concluded that the toilet must have had one of those dreaded hidden clogs,
the ones that show no physical evidence but knot the pipes like a cement wall. That would also explain the lower than normal water level I had observed earlier. I could only pray that the "caressing" I had experienced was from my own bowels, and not of the previous
occupant.
After using 3 rolls of Bounty to clean up the floor, I emerged from the chamber of horrors, shaken and uneasy. Seeing me emerge, my boss said, "Oh, Rich... I meant to tell you, I had a little problem with the toilet earlier."
