Toilet Repair Mission

One Overflow Too Many

When the Dukey Hits the Floor

Tools needed: duct tape, table knife, North American ten cent piece, caulk or chewing gum, a rock.

Our pioneer ancestors never had to unclog a toilet. In fact, the majority of humans living on the planet will never unclog a toilet. Not because they can hire a plumber, but because of their superior waste removal systems, which include Thick Bushes, Deep Pit, Field Fertilizer, and Over There.

Here on the most perfect land mass on the planet, among the smartest and kindest humans in the universe (no matter where you live, you know right away I mean the United States of America,) we hide our secretions and excretions better than anyone in history.

The “Out House” has moved In, very near to where we make lunch and take a nap. Crapmart has devoted thousands of retail square feet to help disguise this icky fact. But frilly curtains, scented soaps, soft towels, fake (dust collecting) flowers, shaggy seat covers, deodorizing sprays, electric fans, and “potpourri,” will not change the simple fact:

 At some point, even the daintiest discriminating citizens must take a stupendous steaming dump--in the house!

O Deodorizer of Defecation, Eliminator of Excrement, Washer-Away of Waste, every man woman and child depends on you to make them comfortable and inoffensive. Some of us, when sick and/or very drunk, bow to you!

Modern sewage collection and treatment systems are one of the rarest institutions in the industrialized world--a good idea. More so when we consider the failed sewage systems of the past: Street Gutter, Hollow Stump, Nearby Cliff, Big River, and that total failure, Source of Drinking Water. Even angry goofballs who equate taxes with Satan, Lazy Brown People, and Communism, will always pay to avoid having to squat over a hole out back. (For apartment dwellers: over a bucket, then out the window.)

Our poop and puke is thus piped away, proceeding with the poopulace’s to the processing plant, where the Piped Poopwater Purification Project (P.P.P.P.) prevents poisoning problems. This fresh and fragrant product may be “treated” and sent back for you to drink again and again. Sometimes the less savory “reclaimed” water is sprayed on golf course greenery; appropriate because golf is a waste of time, money, and good pastureland. Whack poop-grass, rich guy.

None of this, however, will keep your toilet from overflowing. Clogged toilets are another great equalizer in the States, they happen to everyone. If your toilets are old and crappy (pardon the expression) you know what I mean. Cheap Dude keeps a “plunger” on full alert, bowlside, 24/7. Even constipated old billionaires know the helpless terror of watching a floater in the swirling water slowly rise, knowing it’s headed “over the edge.”

This vile subject was brought to attention in the most direct way possible this morning. After doing my duty, (going duty?) the flush refused to go south. (How many overflows are too many? Ms. Cheap, Dudine, would say one, period. I say once or twice a year is just the way “stuff” goes--or doesn’t.)

Quickly I turned the water off at the little handle where the water line comes out the floor. The water crested a half-inch from the top. (Perhaps I enjoy the suspense, the adrenaline rush of the random stoppage/overflow.) With purposeful plunging, the bowl unplugged and drained. Yummo. Another flush cleaned the “plumber’s helper” as Grandma used to call it. I set it on an old Crapmart ad by the trash to dry. Real, son.

Having mastered this craptastrophe with my knowledge, preparation, and courage under pressure, I heard ghostly groans from the next. Months ago, major surgery had been required to transplant new Toilet Guts and caulk a leak. Soon it began overflowing daily and refusing to shut off. Bad engineering and cheap-as-possible Crapmart Construction Standards were not corrected by angry re-installation. Redneck Re-engineering required a chosen rock jammed between Guts and Tank, and a strategic bend in the rod that connects the float. This worked--until now. Groan turned to evil hiss until I fearlessly took off the tank lid and lifted the float.

No more annoying inner debate about “what to do today.” The questionable mechanism would need further modification. Scientific observation first led me to “lefty-loosy” the adjustment screw on top. Used a table knife because the kitchen drawer is closer than the tool box in the trunk of my clunker. (Putting a little bend in a table knife is a nice way to “personalize" the utensil, no matter what Dudine hollers about “wrecking the [not-]silverware.”) Then I duct-taped a dime down, so that after re-tightening the screw, it pushed the dime and shut the water off. (Joyful side note: the duct tape was “finders keepers” lying in the street a couple weeks ago.)

The stupid dumb stupid [family oriented cursing] stupid dumb stupid “shut off” hadn’t been shutting off because the screw was gouging into cheap plastic instead of pushing it down. Less than a year old and worn out--thanks Crapmart!

The water valve now gently hissed instead of moaning hideously, then shut off. A son walked by and asked if I had exorcized the demon in the water line, and I took credit. Later he argued that dukey should be spelled dooky, but I prefer the more regal spelling. “Dook” of Prunes?

Our golden stream and its brown trout are now under control. Our Septic Tank bravely and casually handles everything we flush, as always, much to the delight of nearby trees. I hope this ten cent fix lasts a while. If not, I hope I’m at work when it overflows.

Until then, score another round for Cheap Dude in the ongoing battle of mankind versus the machines!