In the Toilet, Part I: The hardest part.

 

I moved into a little house on my property. It was in the back, and when I say "little", I mean little! The entire house was 480 square feet.

 In the bathroom you could literally sit on the toilet and wash your hands and move the shower curtain. You know those rugs you buy for around your toilet? Mine doubled as the same rug I stepped on when I exited the shower. There was no floor space for any other bathroom rugs. None.

 My husband and I purchased the property with the two houses about 15 years earlier. After he passed away, with both of my kids grown and out of the house, I thought the little house might be a good place for me to "land". I knew the bathroom was in bad shape, but the previous tenant never complained. Which meant in reality, I had NO idea what I was moving into!

 The bathroom floor had divets in it, where moisture had caused the particle board to sink in. And yes, the floor was apparently particle board. The rust in the shower had been painted over multiple times. The sink faucet hot-water knob had to be almost turned all the way off in order to turn it off. If you turned it ALL the way off, it would drip. You had to find the “perfect spot” to avoid hot water dripping.

 The toilet, however, was the piece de resistance—the masterpiece. It rocked when you sat on it. I learned that if I gradually lowered myself evenly onto the toilet seat, it wouldn't rock. It was practically a skill that I honed and was silently proud of--and often unattainable in the middle of the night…or first thing in the morning…

 The screws that held (or did not hold) the toilet in place were rusted, and the particle board underneath was so warped it no longer could keep the toilet secure.

 Four days into my move, the toilet overflowed. Well, technically, the water rose up to the top of the toilet bowl but did not overflow. Luckily, I only urinated, so it wasn't too bad.

 Plunging seemed to do no good. I left it for a bit and after a while it went down. I did not really think much of it.

 Big mistake. HUGE.

 Within a week, it happened again, and again, just from going #1. The third time it happened, I was getting concerned.

 Then it happened. I had a #2 in the morning, and it did not go down. I called a friend who was an older handyman, to see if he had any suggestions. He explained how to shut off the water to the toilet tank and said plunging it should help the water go down. As long as it eventually went down, he said, I would be okay.

 It did not. My friend suggested I call a plumber. I did. I called a couple, and finally found one that could come out that day. He worked for a long time and kept repeating, "this isn't good."

 As the plumber explained to me there were a LOT of roots in my sewer line, I was incredibly embarrassed and humiliated--what with my poo mixed in the mess and my wonky toilet all apart!

 He cleared everything out and informed me I needed to call a place with a camera and have it run through my sewer line to see what was going on. "It's really bad," he told me, once again. I guess, just in case I didn’t hear it the first couple of times!

 I talked to my friend who suggested I put root killer down the toilet and assured me I would be fine. I did, but a couple of times a month, for NO REASON when I went to the bathroom, the toilet bowl would fill with water and not go down for a while.

 Sometimes, whether it was the particles that went down there, or potential roots, or I don’t know, but I developed a relationship with a rotor rooter guy. The first time I called, he found my “clean out” valve. Nice. I did not know the small house had one, let alone the location.

 Then, he had to find the nearest outlet—which was near the door. Good to know.

 Then he told me that outlet wasn’t working…so I tried it and realized the outside light switch had to be on for that outlet to work. Good for him to know. Good for me to know as well.

 Then he ran his snake machine through the sewer line and charged me $150 and he was done.

 The problem kept recurring, and the roto rooter guy was out there so often, he knew my first name, would plug in his machine, turn on the light, and go out and run his machine through my clean out valve. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, I would write him a check for $150 and he would be on his MERRY (and richer!) way!

 I envisioned the money it would cost to detect the problem and fix it. I cried, and I prayed. And I prayed some more...and cried some more. What was I going to do?

 I kept up the regimen with the root killer and I started throwing toilet paper in the trash can if I only urinated. Yes, you read that right! Desperate times called for desperate measures! I kept praying it would get better, but it did not. It was so stressful I prayed every time I went to the bathroom. I prayed as I pushed that handle down that the water would go down. And several times a month, the water would come up to the top and not go down for quite a while. Every time it happened, I would cry, and pray, not knowing what I was going to do with it. I couldn't live without it, and even though I could use the main house "facilities", I knew it was something I needed to fix.

 And don’t get me started on company! I was too embarrassed to invite anyone over—because, I mean, what if they had to use the bathroom? And the rare times I DID have someone over, IF they needed to use the restroom, I would wait intensely listening for the shouts of indignation and water flowing onto the floor. Thankfully, that actually never happened!

 I felt like it wasn't asking too much at this time in my life, to have a roof over my head, food in my stomach, and a place to urinate stress-free...and without my husband to lean on, I would have to figure this out on my own. Pay for it on my own and live with the consequences.