I promise, if it weren’t for the sewer backup, I wouldn’t be talking about poo again this week.
I can't even bear to draw the scenario. And after this, I seriously might be done talking about it for life.
The horrifying possibility that the DC sewer is somehow shoving sewage back towards our house, instead of it flowing the proper direction – which is OUT and AWAY and FAR FROM US AND OUR BASEMENT is currently dominating our lives.
We're operating on high alert. Code Brown.
Because when your tenant-in-the-basement emails to say, “Hey, we can’t flush the toilet. It doesn’t go down.” And then the drains out front and back overflow and you become terrified that the basement will flood, it kind of becomes the Biggest. Deal. Ever.
So Nick and the Roto Rooter man - the $550 Roto Rooter man - were up until 12:30 am on Wednesday night snaking the pipe. And we’d thought it was fixed until the drains backed up again last night, making us all hysterical. But then the water went down again.
Plus our tenants couldn't deal with another middle of the night Roto Rooting.
So currently we're all on water lockdown with no laundry no dishwasher 30 second showers minimal flushing.
Mr. Roto Rooter is going to come out tomorrow morning and stick a video camera through the drain and figure out where the problem is. Kind of like a colonoscopy.
Nick had tried snaking the drain himself early Wednesday evening, before we realized how serious it was and that we needed professional help and a much longer snake than Nick’s.
No snickering. That’s what it’s called. It’s an industry term.
On a side bar: In my Match profile I’d mentioned that the ability to use power tools impresses me no end. And let me tell you, Nick can do everything. Electricity. Plumbing. Dry wall. It was all those summers working construction with ex-convicts in NJ. I find it incredibly hot.
End side bar. Because here’s where it deviates from any possible hotness and devolves into completely disgusting.
So after unsuccessfully snaking the drain and then using the Shop-Vac (and if you don’t have one, these things are amazing. They pick up water and gravel and all kinds of stuff.) to suck up all the grit and debris, Nick stripped off his gloves and clothes out back, walked in and dumped the clothing in the washing machine, and asked me to turn it on the hottest setting possible.
I said I was going to get more clothes to stick in, and he said, “Don’t add anything. Just boil them.”
He then went upstairs and scoured himself.
What he didn’t tell us until late last night, when we'd had a couple of glasses of wine, was this. And I almost hate to write it. But it’s too horrifying not to share.
When he was emptying the Shop-Vac, one of the things that he dumped out was a poo. A whole poo.
After Betty and I got done doing an icky icky squeamy dance, I had to ask.
“Do you think it came from inside? Or up the pipes from outside?”
Nick said, “Jesus. I hope it was one of ours.”
And I know this sounds weird, but wouldn’t you rather have it be someone you knew?