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Flushing The Garbage Lessons from a toilet bowl by Nicole Panepinto I'm very interested in controlling the impression you have of me. I like to believe that I can use flowery words and dynamic imagery so that you'll think I'm brilliant and witty and that we could be friends because you're quite brilliant and hilarious as well. Unfortunately, this particular story will do nothing for the cool, "friend-worthy" impression I'm trying to convey. I have an enemy — one I've had for awhile. Sometimes the tension between us eases up a little. Inevitably, though, things go poorly and there's a confrontation. I'm not going to lie to you...it's ugly. My enemy ... is my toilet. I've lived in this great old house for three years, and in that time, the toilet and I have had several show downs. Both of us are painfully stubborn. The thing is, the toilet has ONE job: to flush. That's it! I expect nothing more from it, but I'm also not willing to accept anything less. You can surely appreciate, then, my frustration a few weeks ago when the following occurred: Index finger of my left hand perched on the toilet's little silver handle...pushing down...toilet flushing type noises...water entering bowl, spinning around and...the end. No "glug, glug, glug" sound of success. Just "Water In and...Scene!" I wait for the water running noise to stop (a noise that I find completely infuriating, by the way, considering that NOTHING HAPPENED!). I try it again (ominous music begins to play). There are more flushing sounds. Again the water enters the bowl (now only about an inch from overflowing) and again there is no glug. Not only is the toilet not flushing, but no water is draining out of the toilet at all. Levels are still precariously high. I must point out that this was a very "run of the mill" type of flush I had requested. I wasn't asking it to do anything significant. Liquid only (I'm horrified at the level to which my cool factor has now dipped...I doubt that recovery is even possible). It was clear that trying one last flush would create a catastrophe. Not wanting to call a plumber on a Sunday, I decided to "deal with the issue tomorrow" (one of my favorite things to do). I spent some time that night looking on-line for a "do-it-yourself" suggestion for fixing it. You would not believe how many web sites are dedicated solely to toilets. On Monday I headed to the local hardware store to pickup the recommended "tools of the trade" for amateur plumbers: drain cleaner guaranteed to make you go blind if splashed in your eyes, rubber gloves the purpose of which I absolutely refuse to talk about (I still have nightmares), and a toilet auger. A what? I headed home with my purchases and a few additional items necessary for the "shock and awe" attack I had planned. I'll skip the less charming details, but I will have you know that THREE HOURS LATER I was victorious. By the end, I was a disaster...tank top dripping wet, hair shooting out in all directions, and pants sagging just low enough to make a professional plumber proud. So, the auger. Are you familiar with this feat of engineering? It's pretty simple, really. Just a handle attached to a coil. You stick the end of it into the bowl and twist as far into the toilet drain as you can (I'm sorry, it's horrifying, I know). The little instruction card said that I should be careful when inserting the coil, so as to not scratch the bowl...and I really was careful THE FIRST HOUR. It became clear as the project went on, though, that, if I really wanted to fix the problem, I would have to disregard the risk to the pretty porcelain. Later as I was showering, I thought about the auger that I had purchased. The pride of ownership wasn't necessarily profound, but the idea behind the uncomplicated contraption sort of was. I have garbage in my life that's keeping me from recognizing my full potential. I've toyed with the idea of getting rid of it, but it's clear that I might have to get dirty to remove all of the junk. I don't want people to think less of me, to look at me and see that I have faults. I'd rather look good. Clearing out the trash in my life is such a big job and it's easier to just sit there and pretend that everything's fine. So this auger got me thinking about God (a comparison that probably hasn't been drawn before) and how, in His wisdom and care that I so seldom understand, He uses something, usually difficult, to force me to clear out the distraction. He's not overly concerned with how the process will make me look. He's concerned with the end result: me being who He created me to be. It's not a swift process. Honestly, I'm pretty stubborn, so I have to endure the pain of refinement repeatedly. I wish I could say that I've been completely freed from the trash that I have allowed to clutter up my life, but I can't. I can tell you this, though — the less concerned I am with keeping things pretty and the more willing I am to deal with my crap, the closer I get to fulfillment...glug, glug, glug.