Crappers!

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Okay, so I have a real weekend off.  I had big plans for Saturday, which were limited to sleeping late, and sitting on my rear end watching college football.

Y'all might remember vaguely me telling you about renovating our upstairs garage apartment for guests.  Yeah, I still haven't gotten around to showing y'all pictures of the work yet, but I will.  You might remember the 2,000 pound bathtub removal, and the ancient oak bathroom floor with four million nails.  In each plank.

Well, I finally got around to replacing that floor with plywood (once again, with advice from Two Dogs, who knows all about construction, and plumbing, and junk), and figured I'd go ahead on and set the toilet back in so that while I'm working up there I don't have to run downstairs, or go stand on the landing to do my business.  So, Friday night I set it back in, and got everything hooked up.  The old toilet is in good shape, but evidently sitting up so long, the neck that the flapper rests on leaks by.  I had put a new flapper, but that didn't do the trick.  So, I decide to replace the whole neck deal.  The old bolts that attach the tank to the bowl were so rusted that they would not loosen, so me and Mr. Hacksaw had us a meeting yesterday evening, and took care of that.

So, early this a.m. I head off to the hardware store for new tank bolts.  Get home, mission accomplished.  Well not so fast...the toilet had been sitting unused for a long, long time, so of course the fill valve was stuck, and would not shut off.

So, back to the sto' for a new fill valve.  Mission accomplished.  I am finished with crappers for today.

Well, not so fast.  My little dead widow lady's sister called me while I was in the midst of plumbing and asked if I'd mind cutting the grass one more time this season.  I certainly did not mind, and decided that while I was rusty, and sweaty I'd go ahead on over there and do it, seeing as I had plenty of time before football.  As I am about to leave, one of the renters comes hollerin', "Andy, my toilet is stopped up, and water is running everywhere!  Do you have a plunger?"

Now, first let me say that anyone that has three small children, and lives in an upstairs apartment should be required by law to own a plunger.  I mean, what kind of moron does not keep a plunger by the crapper for Justin Case?  So, I go running in my house, grab a plunger, and race upstairs to find a disastrous flood of Biblical proportions.  Water is still running out of the tank...Moron did not think to shut the water off, and is standing ankle deep with a string mop working valiantly.

Moron!

What had happened was the pot was sure enough stopped up, but the flapper was stuck open.

Moron!

So, we got the crap unstuck, and swirlie-doo'ed down the drain, and I went to observe what I knew was likely to be a horrific scene.  Ya' see, the bathroom in that upstairs apartment sits right over the room in my Dad's Office beneath that Momma does all of her arts and crafts work.  It is, shall we say, FULL OF JUNK THAT IS IMPORTANT TO MY MOMMA.

Sure enough, water is pouring through the ceiling, and all Momma's junk is soaked.  It would be hard to describe to you exactly the enormous amount of art supplies, artwork, pieces in progress, paperwork, etc. are contained in that room...and everything is soaked.

And, the good news is that they are out of town until next week.  

Crap!  I can't just leave it like that.

Crap!