So today I learned how to plunge a toilet. Let’s be honest – clogging a toilet is extremely embarrassing, however, an imminent occurrence that everyone at one point or another in their life must go through. I also used to think that falling out of one’s bed was a milestone event, so please let me know if I’m incorrect about this toilet clogging thing, because that painful fall was totally self-induced. Anyway, given that I no longer live in an apartment building, I no longer have the luxury of calling the maintenance man and then sheepishly mumbling something about my missing roommate with a “what can you do?” expression on my face. Instead, I was told by my Dad to go get the plunger. Feigning ignorance, “plunga–whosee–whatsa?”, my Dad grabbed the plunger and made me come into the bathroom with him. Little did I know that this was going to be like the log flume at Disneyland. I wasn’t prepared, not wearing my over-sized plastic poncho and all, for the monsoon of water that came splashing out from the toilet. Come to think of it, I never actually saw a toilet get plunged, as I tended to hide out whenever the maintenance man was in our bathroom doing his magic. Although, I’m sure if I did stick around, I doubt he would yell at me “how much toilet paper did you stuff down here?!” Nope, no memory of my maintenance man almost bringing me to tears. Frustrated, my Dad passed the plunger to me and made me pump. Let me say, if looking for a cheap alternative to joining a gym, my biceps definitely felt the burn. Twenty minutes later, given all my blood, sweat and tears, the toilet flushed! I felt a swell of pride – enough to mask the original embarrassment of clogging the toilet in the first place. Oh, shut up. Like you’ve never done it.
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