Thursday, January 01, 2009

Bowling.

Toilet bowling, that is. The weekly, or sometimes monthly act of cleaning the cuvette in which we relieve ourselves daily. Now that we have 2 bathrooms in our house, it's a double-dip of fun. But that's not the way that things should be, you see when we bought this house, the bathrooms were divided.

Peter got the small upstairs one (pedestal sink, shower, toilet), for his, erm, business. I chose the downstairs one which is a large full bath. More time consuming to clean, but the one that company is likely to see/use, therefore the one which needs to be cleaned properly.

Now, as things were to go, Peter was meant to keep his bathroom clean. I stocked it with Lysol wipes and Mr. Clean magic erasers for this very purpose. A squirt, brushy-brush and flushy-flush here and a few wipes there and bingo! It's in adequate condition for a male-owned bathroom. But no, alas, he could not even handle this small chore and I watched, in dismay, as the sink became toothpaste-crusted and the toilet started to look like pink and brown tie-dyed t-shirt.

Fast forward to the week before Christmas. Visitors are imminent. I knew that there was no use in asking Peter to clean his toilet. He is very adept at ignoring all requests for help on the home maintenance and cleanliness front, especially when he does not fancy the job at hand. I don't know how he manages, but he actually makes me feel GUILTY for asking him. Sick, I know!* Anyhow, asking, nagging, pleading and begging are not terribly effective and I lack the sociopathic nerve to take his kneecaps out with a baseball bat, so I decided to take care of the worst of it, ie. cleaning the toilet.

Off I went to put a new sponge on the toilet cleaning thingy (aka. a fresh brush MAX) which I inherited with the house. Anyhow, if you watch the little video on the link in the last sentence, you will see that a sponge is clipped onto the end of a wand. What it does not show is what happens when the wand does not click fully into place.

So there I was, scrubby scrub, trying to remove some of the worst scum in the drain hole when *click!* the sponge detaches and becomes wedged just out of sight.
"Uh-oh!" I thought and I got some BBQ tongs and attempted to dislodge it, to no avail. In fact, I think I only succeeded in pushing it down further.

Next step: rubber gloves. Rolled 'em on as high as I could, and reached down into the drain hole, but my fingers were barely scraping the sponge.

The plunger was just a bad idea. All that did was push the sponge down further. Toilet no worky anymore.

It's taken until today for us to pull up the toilet, and with much nagging and begging on my part. Peter hates home repairs even more than he hates cleaning, which usually leaves me holding the handy-woman wrench. For this, though, I needed his male upper-body strength for the toilet lifting part.

Still no luck, though. We can't see the sponge anywhere, and now the bathroom smells like poo-drain. Tomorrow I will go get a snake and we'll if we can't find that sucker... The, er, good news is that it offers us an opportunity to replace the wax seal on the toilet.

I know. Every cloud has a silver lining.
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