Our downstairs toilet has been a little on the sluggish side for a while now, sometimes requiring many more than one flush to avoid offending its subsequent users. Yesterday, it decided it had taken enough of our crap and refused to work. Fortunately, its strike-action, which amounted to filling up on flushing and only very slowly emptying itself, was instigated without vast quantities of unsightly contents in view. Unfortunately, no amount of coercion could force it to cooperate. It looked like time to get the drain-rods out.
On arriving home from work today, I kitted myself out with old clothes, overalls, wellies and rubber gloves and then, dreading what I might find, I lifted the inspection hatch. On the up side, the very obvious blockage just happened to be where the drain ran into the inspection chamber and it looked like I wouldn't need to use the drain-rods (or clean them afterwards). On the down side, there was a great wad of poop and paper lodged behind the piece of loose concrete that had given rise to the offence, and I was going have to get my hands in there.
I'm not sure what we will do if supermarkets and department stores abandon the use of plastic bags completely. I used one to line my bucket so as to avoid having to clean it, and one on each hand as an extra barrier between skin and dwang. I reached into the drain and transferred one large, double-handed scoop of poop into my bucket, and then a second. There was a third but it must have taken fright because it broke free and slithered away along the drain and out of sight. I had my beloved running up and down the stairs flushing both toilets to make sure that the fleeing dollop made it all the way to its demise in the septic tank without getting lodged anywhere else.
Satisfied that the blockage was cleared, I replaced the hatch, changed out of my still-clean protective garments, and washed my hands several times, just in case. Purely as a precaution against anything noxious I may have inadvertently ingested, I disinfected my inner self with a couple of glasses of red wine and a shot of Glenmorangie.
The facility has now been restored to normal service, having being tested fully...
On arriving home from work today, I kitted myself out with old clothes, overalls, wellies and rubber gloves and then, dreading what I might find, I lifted the inspection hatch. On the up side, the very obvious blockage just happened to be where the drain ran into the inspection chamber and it looked like I wouldn't need to use the drain-rods (or clean them afterwards). On the down side, there was a great wad of poop and paper lodged behind the piece of loose concrete that had given rise to the offence, and I was going have to get my hands in there.
I'm not sure what we will do if supermarkets and department stores abandon the use of plastic bags completely. I used one to line my bucket so as to avoid having to clean it, and one on each hand as an extra barrier between skin and dwang. I reached into the drain and transferred one large, double-handed scoop of poop into my bucket, and then a second. There was a third but it must have taken fright because it broke free and slithered away along the drain and out of sight. I had my beloved running up and down the stairs flushing both toilets to make sure that the fleeing dollop made it all the way to its demise in the septic tank without getting lodged anywhere else.
Satisfied that the blockage was cleared, I replaced the hatch, changed out of my still-clean protective garments, and washed my hands several times, just in case. Purely as a precaution against anything noxious I may have inadvertently ingested, I disinfected my inner self with a couple of glasses of red wine and a shot of Glenmorangie.
The facility has now been restored to normal service, having being tested fully...
I love the title!
ReplyDeleteAnd I'm glad it all worked out in the end.