7:45pm. Judah’s bath time. It takes two people and several bath sheets to oversee that ordeal. Neil runs downstairs to check on Noah. Leaving Judah in the tub with my guard down, I run to grab PJs. A frantic bellow from below filled my hears. “Babe! I need your help!” Following Neil’s panicked plea, Judah whizzes passed me in a blur, leaving a trail of water soaking into the carpet.
My heart begins the race to the mystery scene of mayhem. My feet follow, tripping down stairs. Quickly casing the living room, I see only Noah, playing on his laptop, as calm as a gentle breeze tickling the leaves on a palm tree. Couldn’t be too bad. No one is wounded. Neil’s panic-stricken voice nips at the heals of my thoughts causing my heart to race faster. Finally, my eyes halt outside the hallway.
Judah streaks across the floor. My heart stops in shock at the set stage before me. Neil feverishly bails water from a geyser of sewage springing from the commode. Ankle deep water soaking into the carpet jumpstarted my heart again. A puddle of sewage on white carpet did nasty things in my stomach.
Judah takes the opportunity to “run free” outdoors. My brains snaps to attention. Retrieving the little unclothed urchin from his favourite habitat and locking the door behind me, I say a quick prayer of thanks for our recently purchased carpet cleaner and begin sucking up as much water possible. Even with the water turned off, the toilet continues spewing sewage. Desperate for relief from the sight, my eyes look up to notice Judah still enjoying life in the buff. Pajamas still in one hand, I catch and help Judah dress while waiting impatiently, with the phone squeezed between my shoulder and ear, for the representative with Homeowner’s Insurance.
“Well, ma’am, usually at this point in the evening, we would tell you that we will have
someone out tomorrow to assess the situation.”
“Excuse me. I don’t think you understand. My husband is bailing buckets of water and sewage from the toilet to our back yard. He can hardly keep up. Yes, the water is turned off. IT’S NOT STOPPING! Are you really telling me that we should just continue bailing until someone finds our house some time tomorrow?”
“I see your point, ma’am, and I am very sorry to hear about your situation.” Really? “I will dispatch someone out to your house tonight, ma’am.”
“Thank you. About how long will it be?”
“I will call dispatch, and if you don’t hear from us within the next 1 – 2 hours, call us back.” Click. Hey, that’s…great.
Frustrated I look for the plumber’s number. Forget the insurance company.
“Yes, we hope to have someone to you within the hour, but I can’t guarantee it. Oh, and that will be $120 to assess the problem.”
Forty-five minutes later, the plumber arrives. Finally! The sewage-surge stopped, but Neil’s obsessively cleaning carpet while I generously fumigate with Febreeze. Mr. Plumber turns the corner with an apologetic look. ´´It’s not good. A cracked pipe.´´ Rats.
It’s not so bad, really. CVS is just around the corner, and the boys can wear pull-ups. Febreeze is beginning to overtake the foul fecal odor. Perhaps, water bills are a luxury. Not the ones from water damage, but the regular ones. You know…that come every month letting you know that you have the ability to turn on the sink or use the toilet.