I have a strict personal policy about using the bathroom in client’s homes. So much so that I’m thoughtful about what I eat on the days I know I have to work. Making sure that the night will go as smooth as possible is my goal and this includes not destroying their bathroom for any reason.

It’s no secret I have bathroom issues. I’m very particular about where I’ll pop a squat. No gas stations. No rest stops with metal toilets. No porta potties, honey buckets, or vault toilets. And a big no to going outside. And while all of my families homes have clean and comfortable bathrooms, I plan to keep them that way.

No, I don’t dehydrate myself but I do my best to never leave more than a tinkle. Well, until that fateful night.

I don’t know what happened but all I can say was it did not go as planned.

I knew halfway through the night that there was no way it would wait till sunrise when I would be home. No, this one was making a drop despite great effort and I was losing the battle to wait for my personal space and privacy.

But let me set the stage.

One working bathroom. One. Ok, two but to my knowledge on that night, the upstairs throne was a closet.

As the pressure mounted I knew it was inevitable. But I thought I was in the clear. After all, baby was sleeping and it was just after midnight. I would do my dooty  and no one would be the wiser!

Everything went swell and I was in the home stretch. Then I flushed. And as the water slowed I knew it was not going to be in my favor. The water stopped and thankfully, all it’s contents stayed in the bowl. I was instantly horrified.

I’ll find a plunger! That’s it! I’ve got this! I turned around and back by the water heater I saw it! As I picked it up my heart sank. This plunger was likely purchased at the same time as the house more than 20 years ago. Brittle and cracked. With no other options, I jammed it down in to the porcelain chamber and hoped for the best but with a crack in the side it was not creating a suction!

Out of fear of it crumbling to bits I was as gentle as I could be, but my anxiety level was rising! I must have gently plunged that toilet off and on for 2 hours! Refusing to push the handle for fear of a tidal wave emerging, I was running out of solutions. And I was making absolutely no progress! Between plunging and searching for a better plunger, tears began to stream down my cheeks. What was I going to do?

The thought of using my hand to retrieve the blockage was out of the question. I began to pray and with that decided to text my husband who I knew was getting ready for work. Maybe I’d have him swing by and quietly come in and snake the toilet. No scratch that. How would I explain that if someone woke up?

With trepidation and a wave of prayers I gave it one last try with the plunger and cried with relief when I opened my eyes and heard the familiar sound of the toilet emptying! I was in the clear! I flushed once more for good measure, ran a Clorox wipe over the seat, and washed my hands.

Morning was here! Everyone was still sleeping so I slipped out the door and made a beeline for my car. Once inside, I vowed it would be the last time I risked that!

*I did mention to Mom that the plunger may need to be replaced on the phone later that day and she told me yes, it was so old that it was totally useless. She also shared that there was a newer one in the upstairs bathroom if I ever needed it.