Last Tuesday, I think it was a Tuesday; it’s really all hazy now. I discovered that my toilet was leaking from the tank. A steady, yet slow drip…drip…drip…drip…drip…Yay.
I decide that I am smart enough to repair it myself. After getting explicit instructions from a friend on how to take out the ‘Fill Valve’, which is what he deemed was the problem and what to buy to replace it, and even a diagram that he drew for me, with tiny arrows pointing to various important parts in the tank, I went to the giant box store and purchased the appropriate accoutrements to repair the toilet!! Hazzah!
On the way home I reveled in how easy this should be. Even the box that the replacement ‘Fill Valve’ came in told me how easy it would be. Fifteen minute installation, No tools required!! How simple! I am sure you can tell where this is going, but wait for it…
When I came home my OCD kicked in and I took everything out of the box, laid it out piece by piece on a tray and placed it delicately on the bathroom floor. Took the lid off the tank and even flushed the toilet a couple of times to watch how it worked so I could “get the feel of it”. Took the instructions, which were not very long, after all it installed in less than fifteen minutes with no tools required, went outside, sat on the porch and smoked a cigarette while I read them twice.
1. First step, turn off water supply and drain tank by flushing.
I located the water supply valve and discovered that it was rusted. Clearly no one has needed to work on this toilet for quite some time. I soaked it in WD40 and continued to read the instructions, even glancing at the Spanish version. (not that I speak Spanish.) After letting it soak in I tried again, only to find that it was firmly lodged and would not budge. My solution? A hammer and a screwdriver, as they are my go to tools.
After strategic placement of the screwdriver and a few taps of the hammer, a rain of rust flakes and another attempt…nothing. Frustration was nipping at my heels. Which was sad really, because I hadn’t even completed step 1 yet and I was already getting annoyed. No tools required…my butt.
Leftie Looseie, Righty tightie…right? Well, when what you are trying to looseie or tightie is facing the opposite direction, and you are hugging a toilet that is in a corner and you can’t actually see what you are doing, AND you already have difficulty knowing your left from your right, a pickle you might find yourself in.
I went outside to smoke.
Second attempt, grab a jar opener. You know those rubber things that you use for pickles? The same pickle I would come to find myself in soon enough? I gripped the valve with all my might, leftie looseie, leftie looseie, LEFTIE LOOSEIE! Alas, no leftie and definitely no looseie. I slumped on the toilet exhausted and had a hand cramp.
I went outside to smoke.
Third attempt, pray, another tap with the hammer and screwdriver and…..leftie looseie, leftie looseie, LEFTIE LOOSEIE! Nothing. On a lark I tried the other direction and guess what…that’s right…it turned. Seriously? Clearly leftie looseie was the other direction.
Now for the second part of step 1. Flush the toilet. That was easy. I watched the water drain from the tank, the previous hour’s frustration quickly washing down the pipes along with the water that was draining. I was doing it! I was fixing my toilet!
The tank didn’t drain completely. Well crap. Consult the instructions, “Oh! This could happen, use a sponge or cup to remove the rest of the water in the tank.” Easy enough. Paper towels and a cup. Scoop, dump, scoop, dump, scoop, dump a hundred times. Why wasn’t this water going down any? Actually it looked like it was rising slowly. What? Consult the instructions, no guidance this time. Okay, decision time. Do I keep scooping and dumping for the rest of my life or do I put a bucket under the tank and just proceed to step 2. Bucket and step 2.
2. Second Step, remove the old 'Fill Valve'. Disclaimer: There is a reason that the tank is supposed to be empty when you begin step two. A very large and wet reason. Let me now introduce you to the pickle.
I shoved a bucket behind the toilet and proceeded to unscrew the 'Fill Valve' from inside the tank. The water, that to me only looked an inch deep, gushed out from the loosened hose. Now, let me say this. Granted the water looked only an inch deep…I, not being a math whiz, didn’t account for the fact that it was an inch of water across the entire bottom of the tank. Meaning it was probably, oh, I don’t know for certain, but close to a gallon of water. Quickly I tried to unscrew the supply hose from the 'Fill Valve', but it wouldn’t budge. It wouldn’t turn, it wouldn’t move at all, meanwhile water continued to pour out. Okay, you are probably thinking, “What’s the big deal? There’s a bucket there.” Well…you would be correct, there was a bucket there, but the bucket was only catching a third of the water because the rest of it was traveling down the outside of the hose and pouring across my bathroom floor. Keep going I told myself, keep going. Soon I feared I would be quoting Dori from the Nemo movie, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming."
I retrieved the other two tools I own, a pair of needle nose pliers and an adjustable wrench. Both too small. Water continued to ooze across my bathroom floor and pool around my knees.
3. Third Step. I sat up a towel barricade and I went outside to smoke.
4. Continuation of Third Step. Walk across the street to my neighbor’s to ask them to borrow some tools. No one is home. I went back in and rung out the towels and replaced them on the floor, just trying to keep the water from going on the carpet. I used every single towel I had in my house, including the dish towels and the fancy pretty “guest” towels that no one is allowed to touch and oddly, even my guests don’t use them.
5. Extended continuation of Third Step. Go to my next door neighbor to see if they are home and borrow tools. They were not. It felt like the world had ended and I was left with a flooded bathroom.
6. Final Step. Called my brother and cried.
7. Three hours later my blessed brother and his wife come to the rescue. I had soaked up and dumped out enough water to keep my lawn alive through any drought. He strolled in, and very seriously unrolled a tool belt that contained just six tools. I paced in the hallway and kitchen like an expectant parent as he set to work. Ten minutes later he walked out with a wide pride-filled grin. "It's a Toilet!", he exclaimed. No, not really, although he was grinning when he came out, but all the said was "It's fixed."
Moral of this story, I am not a plumber and I should leave it to the professionals, or at least someone with the right set of tools.
Second moral of this story, I need a good set of tools.
Third moral of this story, I need a good set of tools and someone to show me how to use them; otherwise they will just get thrown across the room in a fit of frustrated rage.
Take this piece of advice my dear Readers, do not rely on the back of a box to tell you how simple something is to fix and if it says no tools required, it’s a lie.
M.L.
P.S. I tried to be a plumber once before when I installed my kitchen faucet, I should have learned my lesson then. But alas, I am sure I will try to repair something else some day. After all, what’s the point of owning a house if you can’t destroy it while you are trying to fix it?
