Yesterday the toilet in our apartment just gave up and died. I tried plunging it several times, but after a minute or so of toilet-CPR I noticed that dirty toilet water was beginning to flow out somehow through the caulking that lines the base of the toilet and floor . . .
We make a phone call, and the gate guard/multipurpose-fix-anything guy comes up with . . . wait for it, yes, a plunger. After giving the another round of toilet-CPR he notices the plunger I had been using sitting by the toilet, sees the dirty water coming out the base of the toilet, and rattles off something in Chinese to me that sounds like, “OH! You tried using a plunger too?! We better call a plumber causet this toilet is screwed.”
Or at least that’s what I imagine he said, lol.
The next day around 10 am the plumber arrives at our apartment carrying an auger machine that looks like it’s been used on Satan’s personal toilet. He takes off his sandals and heads to the bathroom.
A ‘wonderful’ odor begins to fill the apartment–I open the windows in spite of the 40 degree temperatures outside.
While the plumber plumbs away the guard stands in our living room and begins looking at everything . . . I decide to talk to Julianne to try and avoid a ‘discussion’ in Chinese that I can’t participate in about anything and everything in our living room.
It doesn’t work. He begins talking to me about a small traditional teapot the former apartment occupant left behind. He says something in Chinese and gestures with teapot. I look at him and reply in English, explaining that it’s not my teapot. He doesn’t understand, but sets it back down, and goes back to watching the plumber.
20 minutes later I go to check and see what’s going on cause I hear the work stop, and a lot of loud Chinese being spoken. The plumber sounds like he’s saying the auger isn’t doing the job . . . not good.
A phone call is made, getting permission I guess to go beyond toilet-CPR, and I hear a hammering sound. The guy is removing the caulking from our toilet . . .
At this point the floor of our bathroom is covered in dirty toilet water, and the plumber is squatting in it with bare feet working away . . . I picture the insane cleaning I’m going to have to give the floor later, and groan inside my head.
Another 10 minutes pass, and the job is done. The plumber and guard leave, and Julianne and I have no idea how long we have to wait for the caulking to dry before we can use the toilet. We make a call and are told 10 minutes. We decide to wait at least an hour to avoid having the toilet fall over or something if are sitting on it and the caulking isn’t completely dry.
Later, we get a call and are told that we can no longer put any toilet paper in the toilet, and that we must put it in the garbage . . . Julianne and I had been hoping that we’d be able to get away with putting some toilet paper in the toilet, and flushing repeatedly, so we don’t have to go the other route . . . but it looks like we’re going to have to have a sealed container from now on in the bathroom and put our toilet paper in that and dispose of it each day.
I guess that’s better than the toilet going bust frequently, but I seriously wish we could flush everything . . .