Nilus and Friends: Courtesy of the Vatican Museum

Nilus and Friends: Courtesy of the Vatican Museum

Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

Ol’ Robbo was making his way through his morning tasks down the office early yesterday when the phone rang.  It was the Eldest, still at home for a couple more weeks from college (and kicking her heels because for some reason she’s not getting the hours at her job she had been anticipating).

Daaaad,” she said, ” Our potty [meaning the Gels’ collective loo upstairs] is overflowing!  There’s water all over teh floor and it’s starting to stain the ceiling in the breakfast room below!”

I closed my eyes wearily.

Why is it overflowing?  Have you tried plunging it?”

“I don’t know why! And yes, I tried.  It’s no good!”

I heaved a sigh wearily.  (I may say that I’ve been dealing with a tummy bug off and on the past couple days and don’t have much extra energy.)

Fine….I’ll deal with it when I get home,” I said.

“But it’s all over the place!” she exclaimed.

“I said I’ll deal with it when I get home,” I replied.

Well.

The good news?  The Gel her own self had “dealt with it” long before I actually got home.  She bailed out the bowl.  She plunged the potty vigorously until the obstruction finally cleared itself.  She threw towels down all over the place.  She put pots and bowls down in the brekkers room to catch le deluge.  (After she had called me, the water broke through the ceiling and started pouring down.)  She even commandeered every fan in the house in order to help dry things out.

By the time I actually got home, no more immediate work was necessary.

I must say that I am quite proud of the Eldest for stepping up and dealing with things on her own.

I must also say that I am disappointed, although not really surprised, that nobody has owned up to their complicity in causing the crisis in the first place.  Oh, I know perfectly well what happened:  In two words?  Teenaged.  Gels.  Let us just say that somebody tried to flush something that had no biznay being flushed despite my repeated warnings and leave it at that.

Of course, I asked each of them individually what they knew of the facts.  Of course, I also got three individual variations on the theme of “I dindu nuthin”.

The breakfast room ceiling is now a yuge mess.  All the paint and drywall has fallen away along a large seam and brownish water stains spread out along both sides.  “You see that?” I pointed out to them all, “That’s the result of your collective having not done anything.  And that is going to cost us a boatlad of money to fix!  You’ll just have to look at it until we can budget away the dosh.  I hope you’re happy.”

I often think of W.S. Gilbert’s lines from The Pirates of Penzance about  “the felicity of unbounded domesticity”.   If he was being sarcastic, I’d be happy to pour him a bumper of port.  If he was being serious, I’d happily kick him in the Ball’s Pond Road.  Yes I would.

 

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