...yet another episode in the series "Please Protect Me From Myself"...
How does one flush underwear down the toilet without knowing it?
I'll tell you.
But to understand the story, you first have to understand my washing machine. I have the most brilliant washing machine ever.
Toilet plunger. (Clean, brand new, clearly labeled for Laundry Use ONLY!)
Add clothes, water, and detergent.
Plunge up and down while you memorize Scripture or read an interesting book.
30 minutes later, wring clothes out and remove to rinse water.
Rinse, squeeze out, and hang to dry.
Voila! Clean clothes!
Today I washed a load of clothes while I happily read my Kindle. Laundry used to be my most dreaded chore. I don't really know how to wash clothes by hand, and it inevitably took a long time, was very frustrating and backbreaking and boring to me, and hurt my hands. So this new system with the plunger and the bucket is a great relief.
I washed my clothes. I rinsed them. After rinsing them, my rinse water had turned quite black, but I shrugged my shoulders and said to myself, "That's life." I don't have the luxury of enough water or enough time to rinse my clothes until the water runs clear. I had a pile of little twisted logs of clothes that I had wrung out, and as usual, I disposed of the water in the toilet. But as it poured out, I saw a black pair of underwear slip over the rim of the bucket and disappear in the toilet bowl. My water had been too black to see it.
"Oh no!" I thought. "Now I'll have to go fishing for my underwear in the toilet bowl!"
But my dismay at this thought quickly amplified when it all flushed down, underwear and all. Now it was gone.
"Oh no, no, no, no, no!" I said, wringing my hands. "Now our toilet is going to be plugged."
I put on a pair of rubber gloves and dunked my hand in the toilet bowl, squeezed it down the hole at the bottom, and fished to see if maybe it was right there. It wasn't.
I pulled my hand back out and doused the glove in bleach. Hopeless.
At that point, I figured it was just a matter of waiting to see what happens. Would we have to find out the hard way whether our toilet was plugged or not? None of us knew how we would retrieve the underwear at that point. So all I could do was hope for the best. Couldn't call a plumber.
What else could I do?
"God, can you please see that pair of underwear safely all the way down to the septic tank?" I asked.
(Can you believe I asked God to look into the tubing of the toilet and the septic tank to watch over a piece of underwear, of all things?)
Do you think God smiles at requests like that?
But so far, he has answered, because all evening, the toilet has flushed just fine.