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If toilets make you squeamish (make you squeam?) you should not read further. I'll put in a few blank lines so you can make your escape safely.





About 10 minutes ago, I was nursing Z. (round 2 of the morning--think someone's a little needy?) when A. came down from her shower to tell me about a toilet in distress. Was there any technique I could advise (I do most of the toilet plunging, which is unfortunately often the necessary final step in our poop-disposal process.) No, I said, we don't have a snake, all you can do is plunge. She returned to the third floor and reported that the water seemed to be rising still. I told her that if the tank wasn't making noise there was no more water going into the bowl--sound plumbing principle, no?

Z. and I heard a flood upstairs. Then we heard a rush of water coming through the ceiling onto the second floor hall. Then every single smoke alarm in the house went off, in every room on every floor, because we comply with code here, baby.

What can you do but laugh?

A. lay down towels in the hallways and I put more down in the bathroom until we ran out and I had to resort to an old flannel sheet. A. disconnected the alarms downstairs, I did the ones upstairs. The one in the direct path of the flood gave her a shock so we left it to howling, but there's nothing to make you appreciate the dulcet tones of one alarm like turning off nine others.

Now she is bailing and I am supervising Z. as she tears up old wrapping paper--oops, now she's hiding under the quilt--and all this before breakfast.

* * * * *

We have to go get a rental car pretty soon because we realized that both A. and I were assuming we'd have the car this weekend--A. has to get herself to the Berkshires, and I have to haul Z. to about three different suburbs for wedding festivities here.

The bride for my wedding sent out an open-cc'd email to her guest list, which was useful because now I won't be surprised to see the old flame who'll be around this weekend. It wouldn't be anything more than surprise if I weren't prepared: she's a nice old flame, and it was a healing fling that we had. I don't think I would have been able to connect with A. without it. I also have no excuse not to have anticipated her presence. She and this weekend's bride actually made our chuppah, which was the occasion at which this weekend's bride met this weekend's groom, so of course she'll be here.

Just too buried in my own head, I guess.