Can I clarify? My blog post centers around my new and improved Writing Room and this all came around when I decided to throw a party. A masked party, been dying to do that for ages. Now, having a party is not for the faint-hearted or for the clinically sane. Can I say in my defence…it sounded like a good idea at the time.
As the party approached I cast a critical eye over our family room and shivered. The corner desk where I sat most days and wrote was truly hideous. It had to go. I even put it on Gumtree for free and got no takers. That’s how hideous it was. So in secret, I ordered a new and beautiful desk to replace it. All my scheming almost backfired when my desk arrived and my baffled hubby argued with the driver that the delivery was not ours. I came clean and signed for the desk. I was saved from his wrath by a shout from upstairs that the toilet was blocked.
Using this diversion to my advantage, we trooped upstairs to investigate. Yep, it was well and truly blocked, the culprit was not identified because neither of my children would take responsibility. After a number of recriminations were made, our mop was selected as the best tool for the job. As the toilet was flushed and the mop repeatedly rammed down the bowel, there came a shout from downstairs. We rushed down and stared in horror as water poured through our hall ceiling. Just to be sure (I know why would you?) the sequence was repeated with further flushing and ramming of mop down bowel, and yes this did result in more water pouring through the hall ceiling.
“Stop,” I shrieked. It was dripping onto my new desk which has been left in the hall.
With much cursing and maneuvering, the desk was put in the family room. I was immediately smitten but was pushed aside as my hubby frantically searched the Internet for a plumber. I stood by itching to shove him out to the way. How dare he be the first person to use my desk.
“It’s the waste pipe,” he told me “It’s blocked. This is bad.”
I rolled my eyes. My hubby was a pessimist by nature.
“We’ll have to cancel the party,” he sighed
“No way. This house has never been so clean,” I cried. I even attacked our bathroom tiles, with a toothbrush, it took me hours, and the memory was still fresh.
Dynorod came to our rescue. I left the next day to take my aching body to the hairdresser. My face was haggard after the big clean (the only thing worse than the Big Clean, is the Guilt Clean…but that’s another story) and I was in desperate need of a make-over. Half way through my transformation my phone rang.
“There is poo all over our porch,” said my hubby frantically. I pretended not to hear with the hairdryer in the background, so he sent me a text.
Waste pipe completely blocked. Dynorod cut a hole in the pipe to insert a camera and two seconds later the guy was covered in poo. It’s everywhere…it’s gushing!
I slipped my phone back into my bag and sagged. The hairdresser worked her magic and my previously ratty locks were transformed by her bouncy blow dry but Poogate was weighing on my mind. As I parked the car in the driveway my phone buzzed.
Got it fixed. Porch stinks but has been cleaned. I’m out buying air fresheners!
I almost gagged when I opened the car door “Eau de Poo” was not a welcome scent. However, several diffusers and air fresheners later, the party went ahead and the story was recounted amid laughter and alcohol. So as I sit now at my beautiful desk, (which under normal circumstances would have been returned) I can’t help but thank my upstairs toilet for having a hand in securing its future…and the party was a great success!