Dancing With The Toilet Plunger

I'm up...kinda.

On full autopilot, I make the coffee, preheat the lunchbox thermoses (all 3 of 'em) and begin to make breakfast.

Oh.

Oh my.

My face takes on that concerned blank look a 9-month old has when things are coming down the pipe and heading for the diaper.

(They say Life is like a race track - you end up where you started.  Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.  Pampers to Depends.)

Oh my.

My body suddenly tells me that I'm on the launching pad, the cherry picker has been disengaged, and countdown has begun.

Hello.

I scurry to the Reading Room, flip up the convertible top on the Throne and....

The water level is almost up to the rim.

Noooooooooooo.

I grab the accordion plunger and gently press down.

Voooop-ah.

Nothing.

Voooop-ah.           Voooop-ah.          Voooop-ah.

The water level goes down to a normal.  Great. OK.

I flip the handle.  The water is back up to the rim.

No, no, no, no.

Voooop-ah.  Vooopp-ah. Voooop-ah.  Voooop-ah.

Water goess down.  Flip the handle.  It’s back.

My mind hears a calm, professional voice.  It has a slight Texas drawl.

"We have T-5 minutes.  T-5 minutes."

I erupt (bad choice of words) into panic mode.  Up until now I was trying to keep the bathroom dry. A thought now relegated to a low priority.

"T-5" jumps to the top priority.

The accordion plunger contracts and expands as fast as Myron's accordion on "The Lawrence Welk Show".

Voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah.

I pause, gasping for air.  The drawl chimes in.

"T-3 minutes."

Flush.  Back up to the rim.

Oh maaaaaaaannnnn!

I am now in the pre-ignition stage of panic.

Voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah.

A public-utilities tsunami surges around the base of the Throne.

Voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop-ah-voop…uh-oh.

The concerned look of the 9-month-old reappears as a realization dawns.

Heavy exertion in a stooped position is NOT the way to postpone blast off.

The accordion plunger merrily bobs in the bowl as I fly out the front door, jump in the car, and drive to the 24-hour grocery store in town - the only place open at 4:30 in the morning.

And, yes, I brazenly commit the sin of speeding.

I am now in the kitchen about 17 minutes later,  less stressed, more relaxed.

I pour a cup of The Elixir of Knowledge and reflect on my near-NASA experience.  The first sip has me thinking about defective plumbing and our family's dietary habits.

The second sip runs smack into 1 John 1:9.

If we confess, He'll forgive us, and cleanse us.   He’ll remove the mess.

As far as the East is from the West...which is a lot farther than the Septic Plant over by the Park. He not only forgives, He forgets. It’s……gone.

Another swig brings a comforting remembrance

There is no clog He can't unclog.  No matter how bad.   No matter how gross.

He flushes it away and He sees it no more.

As far as the East is from the West.

A nice thing to remember anytime of day,. Even at 4:30 in the morning.