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other recent LOUNGE articles:
o Home Alone
Office Space: Color Shemes
o Open House: Sydney Sanctuary
o Burn Baby Burn
Green Scene: Indoor Herb Gardening
Album-cover CD Box
A Room of My Own
Fight the Chaos
Gallery-style Picture Hanging Tracks
o After School
Sew What?
o Curtain Time
Lazy Decorator's Bag of Tricks
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plumb trouble
how I battled a cranky toilet 
by Yee-Fan Sun | 1 2 3 4

I have a bad history with toilets. They have a tendency to spit back at me, at the most inopportune moments, and frequently at other peoples’ homes, for no reason in particular except that I’ve had the bad fortune to flush the toilet at the exact moment that the accumulated transgressions of that fixture’s previous users have caused the toilet to finally make its complaints known. There’s little more embarrassing than being chased out of the bathroom by an overflowing bowl, sheepishly understating, "I think there might be something wrong with the toilet" -- and knowing that everyone else in the house is thinking that you, personally, must have done one heck of a job of clogging up the pipes. Again.

So every time I flush a toilet and watch the water rising, rising upwards, I do a little tiny prayer to the plumbing gods that it’ll go straight back down the way it’s supposed to. Most times it does, but every once in awhile … plumbing disaster strikes.

Two weeks ago, on the fourth of July to be exact, I’m happily prepping the house for a good ol’ Independence Day barbecue with friends. My sweetie, who’s been away for the previous week, is due to arrive back in town in a mere half an hour, though since he’d been traveling with my friend Jen’s husband, she’s offered to do pick-up duty for me. Eagerly anticipating the boy’s return, and looking forward to spending the evening serving grilled goodies and entertaining some friends, I busy myself with doing some much needed housecleaning.

Now normally, the joyous task of cleaning the toilet goes to my boy, who, (a) as the member of the household that rarely takes it upon himself to decide to clean house, gets stuck taking orders from me in such matters, and (b) has the world’s worst sense of smell, and therefore copes with the task of getting up close and personal with the toilet a whole lot better than I do. Today, all alone in the house, I suck it up and settle down to scrub the bowl clean.

keep wandering this way!


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