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Mar 13, 2003 From upstairs I heard my son calling out. Something in his voice told me to hurry, so I rushed down the stairs. Once there, I saw what concerned him, a puddle of water on the laundry room floor. "Look over here," he pleaded. Water was seeping it's way through the family room carpet. Mild panic seized me. Somehow we must stop the spread of water. I needed the wet vac. From my vantage point the vacuum was just around the corner. Unfortunately, water stood between me and it, and I was in my socks. Not a problem. Except when water comes from a clogged sewer line. Then my thoughts inevitably center around one terrifying image. What terrible things has the water carried with it? Gingerly I stretched one foot over to a tiny patch of dry carpet. I reached around the corner and carefully extracted the vacuum from its box. Next I pulled out the pieces of the hose, just in time to feel moisture absorbing into my sock. Well, that was helpful. I quickly set up the machine and began vacuuming the water up. Within minutes the suction managed to pull enough water to halt the advancing edge. I moved to the laundry room next. The depth of the puddle was a couple inches, so the hose made little jerking motions as the liquid raced through it. Suddenly the whine of the vacuum jumped in pitch. The machine was full, even though the puddle was mostly still there. From past experience I knew I had a problem. When the vacuum was full, the surface of the water sat only millimeters from the rim of the reservoir. It would be impossible to take the vacuum upstairs without sloshing water everywhere. Hmmm, this was helpful. "Hon, do we have a baby bathtub down here?" It took a couple minutes for my wife to answer. "Yeah, I found it." I grabbed the tub and poured the vacuum contents into it. Now, if only we had about 1,017 more tubs. Wow, wasn't that helpful. Around that time I realized the dishwasher was running. I headed straight upstairs and pulled open the dishwasher door. There was no water inside, so I figured the machine was at the end of its cycle. I closed the door to let it finish. Back downstairs I resumed vacuuming the puddle. The crazy machine filled again, almost immediately. I somehow had to get the tub emptied so I could dump the vacuum into it again. I grabbed each end of the tub and lifted. It wobbled a bit. But I was maintaining control. I navigated the stairs with care -- and, yes -- I actually made it to the lawn. Success! How sweet it was. When I returned downstairs, something was amiss with the puddle. It was bigger. Where was the water coming from? I could not imagine its source to save my life. So I kept filling the vacuum, pouring the vacuum into the tub, and emptying the tub onto the lawn. I was gaining the upper hand. Then, it dawned on me. That sound droning in the background was the noise of the dishwasher. I bounded up the stairs just as my wife opened the dishwasher door. Water filled the bottom of the appliance. So much for my earlier decision to let the thing run. Boy, I was helpful. Eventually most of the laundry room water was gone, and it was time to call in the big boys. I decided to call a plumbing company who had done drain work for us a couple years prior. It was after 8:00 p.m., so I knew getting service would cost a mint, but I had to get this emergency resolved tonight. After all a family of six has certain urgent needs that require open pipes. I reached the plumbing company's answering system and pressed 1 for "service options." Next, I was told to press 1 if I was a gold card member. I wasn't, so I pressed 2, the option for regular customers. There my only option was to leave a message. Well -- that was helpful. At the next plumbing company, a live person actually answered. I explained my situation. He said he would be happy to help me first thing in the morning. Hmmm -- this was helpful. The third place greeted me with another answering system. The message I heard said they provided emergency service, but only to customers who had used their services in the past. Wow -- wasn't that helpful. With the fourth call I hit pay dirt. A live person answered. I went through my routine again. "Would you be able to fix it tonight?" I asked. "Sure, I'm on my way to another job, but I could come after that. Will that work?" I smiled. "That'll be great. How long before you think you'll get here?" "Probably a couple hours." I glanced at the clock. That would be about 11:00. "Let me ask my wife." I asked her, already guessing her response. "I'll just get it done tomorrow," I told him. Boy -- I'm not going to say it. About the author: Pepe is a writer, whose day job as a software engineer keeps him from writing as much as he wants. His work has appeared in several magazines and periodicals. His take on life sometimes gets him a little out of step with the rest of society, but he keeps marching in the parade. You can reach him at wrob@usa.com. ------------ Comment on this column in the forum. ------------ |
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