The plagues.

Well, hell.

Here's a little story about something I wish hadn't happened last week:

On Monday night, as the skies opened and Husband stepped out of the bathroom, there came a weird extended pouring water from a bucket noise. (or, in a particularly fitting nod to Mr. Maiden, piss from a boot. Him so classy!)

Strange enough for me to raise my head and look at Husband. Who looked right back and opened the basement door.

And descended the steps only to begin cursing.

Yes, my dears. Yes.

Through a process of scientific elimination, it was made clear that indeed, it did rain in the basement when we flushed the powder room toilet.

Well, I guess, thank the Lord for small mercies - I've got a little Bissel cleaner to suck all the water up (and scrub), and it had been a 'clean water flush', whatever that is.

I managed to convince Husband that it was time for the professionals and perhaps a new toilet (low-flow, natch), and so by Friday evening, and after a fairly hefty investment, I think we'll be able to flush again. With, hopefully, a lower water bill.

It should offset the cost in, I'm thinking, roughly 5-6 years, but everything after that is just gravy, right???