tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap...tap tap tap tap snap thud flush whoosh
Can't be me - I'm sitting here.
No one else came in...geez! Did Jerry upstairs fall asleep in the bathtub again and crash through the bathroom ceiling?
Nope. It's just the toilet, running. Finally! I can put my plumbing skills to work. Oh, wait.
I remove the lid and stare inside the tank for an indeterminate amount of time. How does this thing even work? And, why is it not working now? Turns out, the right side of the tank thingy inside the big tank broke. No water was rushing out or gushing up, so that was a good sign. I couldn't turn the water off from below, slippery hands and all. I lifted up that arm thing and stopped the water. Whew! I just needed to find some sort of stop-gap thing because I certainly wasn't going to stand in the bathroom in my Mayer Hawthorne t-shirt and boy shorts holding that toilet tank arm thingy so water wouldn't run. Within reach were two things - a wooden incense burner and my Anthropologie 'mandle' (manly-scented candle) in a can. Bingo! Grabbed that can sans lid, stuck it under that toilet tank arm thingy. Sweet relief.
Now, this whole time, I am fucking panicking. My heart is racing, thumping in my throat. Broken toilet means tell the apartment manager. Broken toilet means said apartment manager will have to tell fix-it guy. Broken toilet means fix-it guy will have to come into my apartment. Come into my apartment. Fuck. Talk about needing a stop-gap. I did what could be done. The rest would just be.
Luckily, I catch the apartment manager a) in and b) clothed. I tell my tale. "Oh, yeah. That's happened to me. It happened to another tenant last week." Great. "The work order will go in now, but we won't be able to do anything about it until the morning." Uh...what if I, y'know, gotta go? "Do you have a bucket? You can fill the tank with water, tilt the inner tank and it flushes! Or, you can use one of the vacant apartments upstairs." Good grief!
I didn't have anything to eat or drink after 5:45 p.m. Sunday night. Of course, with every move of my body, I felt the urge, the need to pee. I closed the bathroom door. Out of sight, out of mind.
Monday morning, my apartment manager called with news of my newly installed toilet. Huzzah! Can't wait to get home.
Ugh. The toilet is small. And, low. Great, just great. It's LOW! You know how I feel about that.
Good-bye broken toilet.
Hello, water-saving-back-breaking-knees-will-be-aching new toilet.