A Very Real Emergency

The following will illustrate just how uneventful my life has been lately.  Otherwise, why on earth would I write about such a ridiculous subject?......


   I had discovered it was plugged (or just not working properly) several hours before going to bed for the night.  Had stayed in that little room (well, really it was off-and-on) for hours after making this terrible discovery.


You see, for several days I had been (as the TV commercials so tactfully say) "irregular."  Due to this and my growing discomfort, I had been taking not one, but several, "remedies" for my malaise.  Always at bedtime, in hopes that there would be very satisfying results the next morning.  Each morning, after swallowing my remedy-of-choice the night before, I would rise, expecting, hoping for results.  And now, after several days, still no results.  So I increased the dosage of yet another remedy-of-choice.  Surely this would work.  I was really getting worried about the whole thing.


Before retiring I went into my chamber one last time, and discovered, after pulling the handle, that it just would not flush.  Hence, the several hours of plunging and waiting, plunging and waiting.  No flush.  Yegads!  What should I do?  It was too late to call the apartment offices.  So I just went to bed, hoping it would fix itself as I slept.....but remembering the heavy dose of the night before. 


Morning came and I went directly to check the situation....still no flush.  It was too early to call the office, so I waited nervously, plunging into the stubborn water many times.  What is wrong?  I took the top off the tank....nothing wrong here, everything's connected and should work perfectly.  The tank would empty and fill just the way it was supposed to.  But no flushing was happening in the bowl.  How embarrassing.  But it was about to become moreso.


Finally I was able to get an answer in the office.  "This is an emergency!" I nearly shrieked into the phone to the startled 20-year-old on the other end.  "This is Roberta Meyers in 107, and my toilet won't flush."  She began to carefully ask me routine questions....Did you try this?  Did you try that?  


By that time I could feel overwhelming surges in my abdomen.  Twisting, insistent pressure building and building.  "I need for someone to fix this, and in the meantime I need to come to the office to use your bathroom."  I tried very hard to sound nonchalant, as if it hardly mattered.  But I'm sure I must have sounded as desperate as I actually was.  "Of course," she said sweetly.  "You are welcome to use our facilities, then I'll send someone to your apartment to fix your plumbing problem."  


No time to get dressed.  This was, indeed, an emergency.  Put a coat on over my pajamas (which really look more like sweats), and put on some slip-on shoes, and carefully ran out to my car, not even locking up my apartment as I left.  Raced up to the office, the car slamming each time I drove - too fast - over the berms placed strategically to prevent speeding.  I was sure I wouldn't make it.


I roared into a parking place in front of the doorway, yanked my keys out of the ignition and ran into the office to the restroom.  The door was locked.  Of course.  Tears were threatening, in my despair.  "Use your pool key" yelled the 20-year-old, helpfully.


At last. Relief, so welcome, just narrowly escaping utter disaster.  It is amazing how common, ordinary things can take on such huge importance, and then disappear once again into insignificance once the urgency has passed.


I calmly strolled by the receptionist, pulling at the back of my bed-hair, which had been tangled and smashed into a matted swirl, perfectly resembling a storm one might view on the weather channel.  But I didn't care.  The critical problem of the morning was resolved.  


Minutes after getting back home, getting dressed, making my bed and trying to coif my hair more acceptably, the knock came at my door.  It was Pedro, my favorite handyman.  I opened the door.  "Good morning.  I'm here to fix your toilet."  Wonderful.  Just after the knick of time.  But I was happy to have him here, confident that he would work his magic as he had many times before in my little apartment.  


...and he did.  It now works perfectly.  And I am feeling great....Just like in the ACTIVIA commercials.  Suddenly I'm graceful, mobile, elegantly skipping around my little haven, nearly delerious with relief.  


...as I said, not much has been happening here....I hope I have not offended the faint-hearted.  I'll write something way more serious the next time.  I promise.