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Round one: Plunger the toilet to unplug it. Stuff does not flow downhill.
Round two: Call Gino the Plumber. Gino augers out the toilet and finds no blockage. However, he does replace the adapter and seal that I blew out by overzealous use of the plunger. Stuff still does not flow downhill but at least it doesn't come out onto the floor. Gino says in his judgment the septic tank must be full and should be pumped out. Two hundred bucks. Well, after I blew it out with the plunger the seal needed replacing anyway.
Round three: Call Honeywagon-Is-Us. They come out and pump out a few hundred gallons of family history. Stuff still doesn't flow downhill. Well, it had been a few years since the tank got pumped, so it needed it anyway, although I'd hoped to put it off until next year. And now I know that the system is still in good condition. Two hundred bucks.
Round three-a: call Gino the Plumber. Gino says he already augered as far as his equipment can reach but he has someone he could recommend to auger out the complete line. They're called Honeywagon-Is-Us.
But I didn't think to ask them to do it while they were there, so it's now another service call. The name of Helen Blazes is invoked with great fervor.
Round four: Biff from Honeywagon-Is-Us comes out. He augers the line. Stuff doesn't flow downhill. He tries this. He tries that. He takes off the toilet again (severe lack of communication here, as that had already been taken off, and was NOT the problem) to check for plastic object etc. lodged therein. I am informed over the phone that in some incomprehensible manner Biff has managed to shatter the drain to the bathroom sink, in the middle of all this. The name of Helen Blazes is invoked with great fervor. Cursing to keep from crying, or crying to keep from cursing, or something. FINALLY Biff puts the auger down the sewer line as far as it will reach, encounters something hard, and augers through it. Biff for some unknown reason wishes urgently to inspect the pipes under the house, after doing this.
I know what you're thinking, but no, Biff came out from under the house much more slowly than he went under it, with considerably less worry on his face. Stuff now flows downhill. Price not yet established, but considering how much flailing around and destroying of my property was involved, I expect it to be high. They always charge more for destroying your stuff.
Came to find out that Biff destroyed the trap on the sink-- not the entire sink, as I had first believed-- taking it apart to try to establish an "emergency" air vent for test purposes. His thinking was that if he had an open pipe to the sewer line and now, all of a sudden, stuff ran downhill the way it was supposed to, that would mean the mysterious problem was actually a plug in the vent pipe running up through the roof.
Mind you, even I could see there wasn't much that could suddenly block a six inch pipe extending up to open sky.
Round five: Called Gino the Plumber again. After a hard day he came out looking exhausted. I told him Biff had disassembled the drain, and the trap had disintegrated when he did so, trying to establish a backup air vent. The name of Helen Blazes was invoked with fervor. "I wish those guys would listen to what I tell 'em. If the vent stack is blocked and you flush it's gonna suck air right through the sink drain. A cup of water in the trap won't stop it; sucks it right out, makes a hell of a noise."
"All right. Well, if it came apart when he unfastened it, it probably needed to be replaced anyway. You can fix it?"
"Yeah, but I don't have an inch and a quarter trap. I can come back tomorrow."
Tomorrow was Saturday on the holiday weekend. And Gino looked like he'd been through the wringer today; I was keeping him from his dinner already. "I hate to ask you to do that."
"Will cost you less if you can wait for next week. I can come back Tuesday."
Round six: Gino will be back Tuesday-- or at least I presume so. I may be jinxing us by saying that. In the mean time we are washing our hands and brushing our teeth in the bathtub, but at least stuff runs downhill.
I am going to tag my mood on this one as amused. It is a strained and angry sort of amused, with a lot of fervent invocation of the name of Helen Blazes involved, but I guess amused none the less.
Round two: Call Gino the Plumber. Gino augers out the toilet and finds no blockage. However, he does replace the adapter and seal that I blew out by overzealous use of the plunger. Stuff still does not flow downhill but at least it doesn't come out onto the floor. Gino says in his judgment the septic tank must be full and should be pumped out. Two hundred bucks. Well, after I blew it out with the plunger the seal needed replacing anyway.
Round three: Call Honeywagon-Is-Us. They come out and pump out a few hundred gallons of family history. Stuff still doesn't flow downhill. Well, it had been a few years since the tank got pumped, so it needed it anyway, although I'd hoped to put it off until next year. And now I know that the system is still in good condition. Two hundred bucks.
Round three-a: call Gino the Plumber. Gino says he already augered as far as his equipment can reach but he has someone he could recommend to auger out the complete line. They're called Honeywagon-Is-Us.
But I didn't think to ask them to do it while they were there, so it's now another service call. The name of Helen Blazes is invoked with great fervor.
Round four: Biff from Honeywagon-Is-Us comes out. He augers the line. Stuff doesn't flow downhill. He tries this. He tries that. He takes off the toilet again (severe lack of communication here, as that had already been taken off, and was NOT the problem) to check for plastic object etc. lodged therein. I am informed over the phone that in some incomprehensible manner Biff has managed to shatter the drain to the bathroom sink, in the middle of all this. The name of Helen Blazes is invoked with great fervor. Cursing to keep from crying, or crying to keep from cursing, or something. FINALLY Biff puts the auger down the sewer line as far as it will reach, encounters something hard, and augers through it. Biff for some unknown reason wishes urgently to inspect the pipes under the house, after doing this.
I know what you're thinking, but no, Biff came out from under the house much more slowly than he went under it, with considerably less worry on his face. Stuff now flows downhill. Price not yet established, but considering how much flailing around and destroying of my property was involved, I expect it to be high. They always charge more for destroying your stuff.
Came to find out that Biff destroyed the trap on the sink-- not the entire sink, as I had first believed-- taking it apart to try to establish an "emergency" air vent for test purposes. His thinking was that if he had an open pipe to the sewer line and now, all of a sudden, stuff ran downhill the way it was supposed to, that would mean the mysterious problem was actually a plug in the vent pipe running up through the roof.
Mind you, even I could see there wasn't much that could suddenly block a six inch pipe extending up to open sky.
Round five: Called Gino the Plumber again. After a hard day he came out looking exhausted. I told him Biff had disassembled the drain, and the trap had disintegrated when he did so, trying to establish a backup air vent. The name of Helen Blazes was invoked with fervor. "I wish those guys would listen to what I tell 'em. If the vent stack is blocked and you flush it's gonna suck air right through the sink drain. A cup of water in the trap won't stop it; sucks it right out, makes a hell of a noise."
"All right. Well, if it came apart when he unfastened it, it probably needed to be replaced anyway. You can fix it?"
"Yeah, but I don't have an inch and a quarter trap. I can come back tomorrow."
Tomorrow was Saturday on the holiday weekend. And Gino looked like he'd been through the wringer today; I was keeping him from his dinner already. "I hate to ask you to do that."
"Will cost you less if you can wait for next week. I can come back Tuesday."
Round six: Gino will be back Tuesday-- or at least I presume so. I may be jinxing us by saying that. In the mean time we are washing our hands and brushing our teeth in the bathtub, but at least stuff runs downhill.
I am going to tag my mood on this one as amused. It is a strained and angry sort of amused, with a lot of fervent invocation of the name of Helen Blazes involved, but I guess amused none the less.
