Blocked toilet, blocked energy
April 7th, 2006
So much to tell. Been mulling it all over. Maybe backwards is the way to go. Let’s start with last night.
Sophie and I sneak into the basement and sniff around for clues. “Look for anything that looks really really old,” I say.
“I think that thing looks really old.”
She’s looking at the ancient pine jelly cabinet that we found up against the far wall of our damp stone cellar when we moved in.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think that’s what we’re looking for.”
We approach the creaky thing, ducking to avoid low-hanging spider webs. A pie safe? A cupboard? The door’s fallen off and is leaning haphazardly against it, whatever it is. There’s an old ceramic knob on the door. Rusted hinges. Chicken wire front. Shelves have collapsed.
“What would you have kept in there?” I ask Sophie. “If you lived a long time ago?”
“I think I would keep my eggs and my bread and my pies and my cakes in there,” says Sophie.
We stare at the cupboard.
“Maybe we should leave her one of your paintings,” I say. “Inside.”
Sophie looks skeptical. “But what about the spiders? How will you put it in there with all the spider webs?”
I gingerly brush a few dead spiders out of the way. “I think I can slide it in.”
“Maybe we can put it on the shelf that’s still there,” she says.
“That sounds good,” I say.
“Okay.” Sophie chooses one of her paintings, this one of a nighttime sky with stars, painted on a canvas board.
We tiptoe back to the cabinet. She hands me the painting. I place it inside, with the bottle of champagne I also left there.
We decide that the lady who used to live here will like our offering.
We make our way carefully up the creaky cellar stairs into the kitchen. I start worrying that maybe the lady who lived here liked the concept of Prohibition. Maybe the champagne was a bad move. Maybe only flappers drank champagne. A flapper would never own a jelly cabinet.
Sophie and I head for upstairs. It’s bathtime, then bedtime.
On the way, I flick on the light in the foyer: POP. It blows. If you drew a vertical line from the old cupboard in the basement straight up through the floor into our foyer, it would be pointing directly at this light fixture.
She was not a freewheeling flapper. Note to self: Remove bottle of cheap champagne. Leave note of apology.
I try not to think about the light. I wrangle Hattie Belle and plop her in the tub. Hattie Belle throws herself onto her stomach and kicks. “I SEEMING! I A MERMAID, MOMMY! I SEEMING!”
Sophie takes care of business on the potty, then hops in the tub with her sister.
My narcoleptic husband is snoozing on our bed. He had been snoozing on the couch, until I kicked him off of it. So he slunk into our room when I wasn’t looking and passed out again. He always does this, the darn narcoleptic. I need him to bust a move.
“It’s 7:50, David,” I yell down the hall. “I have my energy reading at 8:30.” I have never had an energy reading before. I am very excited about my energy reading. I have been looking forward to it all week.
“Mmrrh. Yup. Be right there.”
He is not right here. Now it’s 8:10. 8:15, even.
“David? Whatever’s left of bedtime at 8:30 will be up to you, okay? I’ll be busy with my energy. I’ll have to lie down and relax and be channeled and you won’t be able to talk to me.”
“Mmmmmrhmmm. Coming.”
I feel a sudden sense of forboding, then brush it away like a mosquito.
Sophie forgot to flush. So I flush, just as David stumbles blearily into the room.
The toilet overflows. Not one of those dribbling overflows, but flood-conditions overflowing. Alert-the-evening news overflowing.
David freaks. I try not to freak, because it is now 8:23, and in seven minutes I am supposed to have told my energy to SIT! LIE DOWN! STAY! so it can be read properly.
“DAMN IT! DAMN IT THIS IS JUST—” He yanks off the tank lid and nearly drops it on the floor. He jams his hands in the tank and smacks at things.
Sewage water pouring onto our floor. I hastily shove piles of magazines and bath toys and laundry to the perimeters of the room, to safety.
“What is it?? What is it, Mommy???” cries Sophie. Hattie Belle is oblivious, still in Mermaid Land.
My energy is not in a good place. 8:27. “You’re in the safest spot,” I tell Sophie. “Nobody move.”
“Is Daddy mad?”
“Yes. Daddy is mad at the toilet. But not at you or your poop.”
David is bellowing at the toilet. “DAMN IT JUST STOP THIS IS JUST TERRIFIC I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS SH—” He jiggles more. I throw towels on the floor to sop up the water, but it is coming out faster than I can sop. 8:29.
David steps into the wet sewagey towels. His slipper is Insta-Gross. He turns purple with rage and starts making a strange growling noise I have never heard before. For a minute I think that maybe his aorta has burst and he is gargling with his own blood.
But he’s still breathing, so I ignore him and I pluck the wet children from the tub and whisk them from the room. I don’t care what happens to them next. My energy has got to get a grip. I am not going to let the damn toilet RUIN MY VERY FIRST ENERGY READING.
David does one final furious maneuver, breaking some important thingy in the tank. “DAMN IT DAMN IT DAMN IT NOW I BROKE THE DAMN THING THIS IS JUST WHAT WE NEED ANOTHER BILL TERRIFIC I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS SH—CRAP WHY NOW WHY NOW OF ALL DAYS—”
But the water stops.
“I…have my energy reading.”
The look on his face is beyond description. “Fine.”
I slip downstairs and sit on the big chair and will my rigid muscles and adrenaline-laced cellular matter to settle down. The dog lies down next to me and begins licking his paws obsessively. LICK LICK LICK. In the kitchen, I hear PLOP PLOP PLOP.
8:31. Crap. I get up from the big chair and bolt into the kitchen. Water is dripping through the ceiling and onto the floor. I grab a stainless steel bowl and put it under the leak. PLAP. PLAP. PLAP.
8:32. I grab my jacket and leave the house. I sit on our front porch and try to take deep cleansing breaths. I start hyperventilating, which is what I do whenever I pay attention to my breathing. I try to think about birds. My chest hurts.
This should go well.
Entry Filed under: Uncategorized, Boo! (Our resident ghosts)
42 Comments
1. the Mater | April 7th, 2006 at 12:15 pm
Omigod, and now it begins … dear gentle readers and friends of my daughter, hang around. You will not want to miss this ongoing story. I’ll probably be writing about it too at my own blog.
For now, though, the tale belongs to Jenn and the many guests in her life :>)
2. jennifer | April 7th, 2006 at 12:16 pm
oh, jenn. i’m sorry! plumbing should be something that yelling can fix.
3. Deb | April 7th, 2006 at 12:23 pm
I can’t believe you left us hanging like this!
I do energy readings……I am dying to hear how it went!!!
So sorry about the toilet. We have similiar issues here in Oregon. We have to plunge after every poop practically. TMI? Hey did you know you can turn off the water down under the toilet so it stops overflowing. The knob is usually down under the base on the wall, it usually looks like the ones by the washer and dryer.
4. Andrea S | April 7th, 2006 at 1:15 pm
My deepest sympathies. I am familiar with a waterlogged bathrooms and their leaks to the floors below, only ours is due to a shoddy builder shirking his responsibility to stand behind his work, not a clogged toilet. I could almost forgive the clogged toilet.
I love the way you started this post. I really enjoy your writing and you have me on the edge of my seat waiting for more.
5. Woman with kids | April 7th, 2006 at 1:43 pm
So sorry to hear about the leakage and the drippage. The first morning in our brand-newly purchase home, the upstairs bathroom leaked through the ceiling. Good morning to you!
6. Simon | April 7th, 2006 at 2:05 pm
It seems your ghost was definitely a proponent of prohibition. That, or it doesn’t like Sophie’s art. Which of course is completely preposterous. Must be the booze.
7. Spot the Wonder Dog | April 7th, 2006 at 2:39 pm
*rolls eyes*
Hopeless.
That’s an awful lot of drama over a stopped up toilet. You gonna call an electrician to replace that light bulb for ya?
8. geogirl | April 7th, 2006 at 3:36 pm
My mother always told me I should have gone to plumbing school. That way I’d never have to call for emergency help and I’d probably make more money than what my masters degree would get me.
I’m sorry to say that she was right yet again. Darn her!!!
(p.s. - so, are we finally going to learn about the green mist?)
9. marian | April 7th, 2006 at 4:23 pm
Brilliant! I’m starting to notice patterns on the internet. Today is flooding, poop where it shouldn’t be (mostly underfoot) plumbing problems day.
10. sumo | April 7th, 2006 at 4:42 pm
Hopefully it’s just a clogged toilet and not, well, this:
http://www.suburbanbliss.net/suburbanbliss/2006/04/its_time.html#comments
11. Contrary | April 7th, 2006 at 4:48 pm
Well? WELL?? (sheesh, I don’t never leave no one hanging like this. There should some sort of blogging rule.)
12. the Mater | April 7th, 2006 at 5:23 pm
Contrary, trust me … it’s worth the wait. We Mattern gals have been rendered speechless this past week and that rarely happens :>) Jenn needs her time and space to share this particular story.
13. Dawn | April 7th, 2006 at 5:35 pm
If the reader said anything but “Holy shit, your energy is going crazy” I hope you snatched the money off the table and ran away to drink.
It was very considerate of you to re-assure Sophie that it wasn’t her OR her poop that was making Daddy seize up.
14. marian | April 7th, 2006 at 6:09 pm
I can’t pay attention to my breathing either without becoming slowly certain that I’m going to die because I can no longer breath right. As a matter of fact, it’s happening right now.
15. ChristyD | April 7th, 2006 at 8:16 pm
Man! I can’t beleve the toilet did that to you guys! I can’t wait to hear the rest!
16. Bethany | April 7th, 2006 at 8:26 pm
That’s it. I officially am not leaving any offerings to the old left behind furniture in my basement.
Can’t wait to hear the rest of the story!
17. Amy | April 7th, 2006 at 9:23 pm
How do you get an energy reading? Just curious..
18. Kristen | April 7th, 2006 at 9:26 pm
I generally stick with a bottle of Jack and some bonbons. I say try some boones farm and call it a night.
19. Tina | April 7th, 2006 at 9:50 pm
I am very familar with the plunger dance. In our house, #2 means holding the plunger as you flush and watching really carefully. We have a nice, neat but not so new plunger sitting next to each toilet in the house. I feel like I have won a race when the water level doesn’t appear to rise as I flush.
20. Contrary | April 8th, 2006 at 12:02 am
I never thought not having a basement would be a good thing. I’m practicing my breathing and will be waiting patiently for the next installment.
21. roo | April 8th, 2006 at 12:14 am
Maybe your next jelly cabinet offering should be a package of Ex-Lax?
22. Cee | April 8th, 2006 at 4:04 am
Arrgh!
*desperate to hear what happens next*
23. MeeA | April 8th, 2006 at 4:49 am
Y’know, your David and my David sound awfully much like the same David?!
Looking forward to reading the rest.
24. MeeA | April 8th, 2006 at 4:57 am
And I’ve just realised how creepy that comment sounds.
‘Kay, I’ll just shut up now.
25. Tina R. | April 8th, 2006 at 10:21 am
ENERGY! READING!
Can’t wait.
26. Sheryl | April 8th, 2006 at 12:53 pm
Maybe your ghost is a goldfish, avenging her toilet bowl burial. Try leaving brine shrimp next time.
27. Lisa S. | April 8th, 2006 at 5:06 pm
Holy cow….now come back and post soon…I can’t stand it….in the meantime go to my blog and look at the link that says LOOK for the sweetest HUG picture you’ve ever seen….that’s my little connor boy that you said you’d love to meet! Maybe that can calm you down!
28. flynnie beans | April 8th, 2006 at 10:41 pm
ah good times in the basement glad your adventure was a bit more exciting than mine…i think you guys should spring for some fancy wine i hear classy ghost women like that these days
29. margalit | April 9th, 2006 at 12:47 am
Why do I have a feeling you’ve moved into the Poltergeist House and They’re BAACK!
Creepy.
We had a similar plumbing disaster a couple of weeks ago. Only ours HAD to be worse because we had a serious case of the drizzlin shits in the house and THAT is what the toilet overflowed. And because of it, the floor lifted up and so now we have big bubbles in the flooring (which is less than a year old) and there is one spot in the bathroom that we CANNOT reach in to clean it. So I keep spraying lysol cleaning spray in there and hoping that eventually it will clean itself out. The odor, however, was really bad for a week or two.
Lovely. Thanks for sharing, eh?
30. Dave Thomas | April 10th, 2006 at 2:10 am
How can you be sure the dead biddy in your basement’s a teetotaler? Could be something else lodged up her craw, like maybe:
1. You moved her spiders. Old folks hate that.
2. She didn’t like the painting. Listen, not all preschoolers are Picasso. A backed-up crapper might just be your spirit’s way of bemoaning a “hamfisted composition” or an “undeveloped sense of line.”
3. She’s not actually dead, and she’s had it up to here with being ignored by you people. Seriously, how many pipes does a crone have to pop in order to get some cable TV down there?
Either way, I feel you owe it to yourselves to reciprocate. Instead of leaving gifts, next time have the dog go doo in her precious jelly cupboard. See how she likes it.
31. bee | April 10th, 2006 at 8:57 am
Heh. I could have written comment #14. Jenn, is Tree the one who read you? I’m seriously considering begging her as a complete stranger to read me over distance. In the mean time, I do hope things have started to go splendidly for you. Hugs!
32. mama_tulip | April 10th, 2006 at 12:21 pm
When I was pregnant with Oliver I got a little, um…backed up. Finally, after like, days, I felt a little action going on in the ol’ canal. So down I go to the throne, and I let loose. I flushed but got distracted by a noise Julia made upstairs and dashed to see if she was okay.
Fast-forward like, two hours. I’ve just gotten her down for her nap and I’m exhausted, and planning to take a nap. I just wanted to pee first. I noticed the toilet didn’t flush from my last session, so I flushed. But apparently the toilet was clogged and well, everything overflowed. EVERYTHING. It was like a poo tsunami. There was brown and water *everywhere*…it flooded out of the bathroom and all over the basement floor. And my pregnant ass had to clean it all up.
I feel for ya, is what I’m trying to say.
33. summer camp kid | April 10th, 2006 at 12:50 pm
Oh no… it is already April 10th and not a peep.
Jenn, are you at an extended energy reading or did the toilet swallow the house whole?
I am really really hoping for a happy ending!!!
34. Lisa | April 10th, 2006 at 1:59 pm
oh man….I can’t stand it….wish I had an energy reading right now….but I’m afraid of what I might find out. Come back come back Jenn!
35. Stacy | April 10th, 2006 at 2:08 pm
What the heck is an energy reading? I can’t wait to hear more …
36. the Mater | April 10th, 2006 at 2:11 pm
I feel I have to step in here for a brief moment and allay some fears. It’s good, people … it’s all good. Jenn is probably still sorting it all out and will be back to you guys soon.
Think positive thoughts :>)
37. karina | April 10th, 2006 at 2:16 pm
Oh Jenn, Jenn, Jenn….only you would have a poltergeist whose preferred medium of terror is poo.
Somehow I’m both eager and very frightened to hear how the rest of this story unfolds.
38. Simon | April 10th, 2006 at 2:44 pm
Mater….
You can’t possibly mean “Cranberry Storm Door” kind of good. That sort of thing just doesn’t happen to the Mattern/Lane clan. I mean really, be reasonable!
39. Tiff | April 10th, 2006 at 2:59 pm
I am so very sorry for your toilet loss. This too shall pass…
40. alice | April 10th, 2006 at 6:13 pm
I need an update. Need it. Do you hear me?
41. ChristyD | April 10th, 2006 at 8:16 pm
I agree with Alice. Give us the rest! Please!
42. Diana | April 11th, 2006 at 10:39 am
oh man. I’m w/out internet for a couple days and this is what I miss?That’s an angry ghost… So sorry, and hoping the reading went well…
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