Well, since it's been a full two and a half weeks since I last posted, most people probably think I've given up on this whole blogging thing. The problem is, I just feel too guilty posting on my blog when I have oodles of homework to do. But this afternoon I'll push away the guilt...or at least I'll try.
The big news of last week was that the basement in Bowen Hall flooded. One of the other apartments had a clogged drain that somehow resulted in the flooding of their apartment, the laundry room, and the beginnings of flooding in our apartment. Funny thing is, none of us in Apt 11 even noticed the tub and shower were filling up with dark brown murky water with who knows what floating in it. (Insert: We're not completely dense, though--it was 11:45 pm on a Saturday night, and most normal college students are gallavanting about Provo at that time.) Luckily Jessie, our RA, was on top of it and called emergency maintenance. While they were fixing the drain in the other apartment, the girls upstairs kindly let us use their bathroom to get ready for bed. And pretty soon the water level went down and all the water--if you can call a nasty-smelling putrescence of a molasses-colored liquid "water"--drained back into the sewage pipes. And, aside from the soaking wet carpet in the hallway, everything was back to normal.
All the water drained back into the pipes, but unfortunately not all the interesting artifacts and floating mysteries that emerged with the water were able to make the return trip down the drain.
Being the girls we are, we took a picture to verify this was actually happening, but I think your imagination will do just fine for this one. Suffice it to say it was disGUSting. BLEGH. Thankfully, Kristen took the initiative (which initiative was dearly needed since our dear friends on maintenance weren't coming until Monday morning to clean the carpet or our bathroom). The tub, which is separate from the shower, was relatively kind to us; its gift to us for the night was just some gritty sand in the tub. We weren't so lucky with the shower. Kristen, with the stoic attitude of a classical hero, splashed water on the walls of the shower to at least get the gunk condensed into a soggy pile on the floor of the shower.
Then it was my turn.
Armed with rubber gloves (heaven-sent from Kristen's parents), I rolled up my pants.
I plugged my nose.
I took a deep breath, thinking of Dad, who I knew would pick this stuff up with his teeth without a second thought. That thought pushed me over the edge.
Scooping up the odorous goop, soggy pieces of toilet paper, stringy hair, and other unmentionables, I wondered why the heck anyone in their right mind would be a plumber. Beats me.
Let's just say that either my husband will snake all of our drains himself or we hire a plumber. Period. That is just one place I will not go.