That time I nearly broke the toilet thanks to Pinterest

This is one of those post titles that sounds like it’s going to be disgusting, but it isn’t really.

So, because I am a somewhat shoddy housekeeper we live in Florida where the water is almost always questionable, our toilets get the black ring of death around the inside.  Mold grows in this state faster than you can say, “Wow, look! Some idiot in Florida is in the news again!”  So no matter what I use or how I try, our hall bathroom toilet ends up being a petri dish in what might be my discovery of the latest super antibiotic.

In an attempt to clean out the mold, I have used a variety of offensive tactics – my personal favorite just being straight bleach.  But then I found this pin:

Now, if you click the pin, you will find that this pinner suggests that you can put the corner of the magic eraser in the toilet overnight, and the black ring will somehow “magically” disappear.  But I am impatient. So I tore off half an eraser and dropped it in.

(On a semi-related note, why is this pinner storing her erasers in a wicker basket?  That’s strange; they aren’t a decorative item.  I should have been wary of the post from the onset.)

This technique may actually work; however, I don’t know because I may have mentioned that I am really freaking impatient? So I decided that I would use the toilet brush and toilet bowl cleaner as well, so I begin pushing that eraser around the bowl like a luge player with a broom and a medal on the line, and it worked, kinda.

Unfortunately, I have what is known as mommy brain ,which is more accurately and less adorably called sleep deprivation, and because I used the toilet brush, when I was done, I automatically FLUSHED THE TOILET.  And the eraser disappeared into my plumbing.  I stood there staring down at the toilet, thinking about the situation, realizing for the first time that my toilet has internal plumbing so I cannot just take out the trap to retrieve it.  And I make a decision.

I walk away.  I will tell no one.  It will just go away.

Which worked out great because no one really uses the hall toilet anyway, until about three days later when my husband mentions, “Have you noticed that toilet running really slow when it flushes?”
Me:  What? How odd!  (My husband should know at this point that when I start sounding like I am having a conversation with Mr. Darcy that I am clearly lying.  I am a horrible liar.)
Him:  Yeah, it has been like that for a few days.
Me:  Do you want chicken for dinner?  (Mental high five!  Deflect with food!)

We went out that evening and came home with a couple of palm trees to plant in our front yard and as I am walking through the house I see him attacking the toilet with the plunger.

Me: Honey!  I can do that! Why don’t you go deal with the trees, since I can’t really do that.  (HE MUSN’T LEARN OF THE ERASER!!!  HIDE THE SHAME!)

So he leaves me with the plunger, and I am on a mission from God.  Except after 45 minutes of plunging and sore arms and an aching back, there is still no eraser.  And Biblically speaking, I don’t think God sends people on missions to unclog their toilets from cleaning supplies that should not have been flushed in the first place.  (Although that would be awesome if in a modern twist, God expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden because Eve dropped a homemade fig leave scrub brush into the spring when she was trying to clear out the algae and permanently clogged it, and God was just so over it, he was like, “THAT’S IT!  GET OUT!” and it wasn’t an apple at all, but Eve trying to be helpful.  Hmmm…. #maybegettingtothetruth #goingtogetstruckbylightning)

I pop my head out the door.  I need to buy time.

Me:  Chris, I think it’s a Drano problem, I will get some at the store tomorrow.  Just don’t use that toilet.

So around 3:45 AM, I finish giving the nugget (previously referred to as the Wereloaf) her bottle, and suddenly panic about the toilet.  An obscene level of anxiety grips me.  He must NOT find out about the eraser. I go back in my bathrobe and begin plunging with renewed vigor.  After a half hour, I realize that he is going to find out about the Magic Eraser.  I need to confess.  But it is now 4:30 AM, and I am pretty sure he is going to be more angry about my waking him up to confess my stupid than the stupid itself.  So I do what any smart wife would do.  I leave a note on our bathroom mirror.

——————————————–
Dear Husband-
I must confess to you that I know the cause of our bathroom blockage.
It is a Magic Eraser.
I would prefer that you ask me no further questions about this situation as it will probably result in my crying hysterically.  Simply know that I am sorry for my stupidity, and  I love you.

Also, I do not know how to fix this problem.

Wife
———————————————-

Then, first thing in the morning, as he was blissfully sleeping in, I took nugget to a friend’s house for brunch when I received a text: Toilet is fixed.

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.  -Galatians 6:9

I am pretty sure that this quote has nothing to do with reaping a Magic Eraser from the depths of our plumbing, but I am thankful for a patient husband and realize that I probably need to learn a little bit of that myself.  Now back to my Eve theory . . .