Flush With Fear and Excitement

Somewhere the waterline in my neighborhood (if you can call the countryside where I live a true neighborhood) there was a water leak and apparently a loss of water pressure. I was away most of the day Monday and didn’t notice until I listened to a phone message on the answering machine. The water company discovered leak, was looking for it and planning to repair it, not leaving until the water was restored. I saw the repair trucks and flashing amber lights about 1,000 feet away from my house, but thought it was the yearly flushing of the hydrants before winter.

Of course I had no water in my home, but did odd chores that could be done without water. Later in the evening, I checked and the water had been restored. As I turned the taps, the hissing and burping of trapped air greeted me. I believe the amount of air was greater than I’ve had before because of the proximity of the leak. I was downstairs until I went to bed. The sink in the upstairs bathroom hissed at me as I endeavored to brush my teeth, then checked my computer before I retired to my bedroom.

I awoke during the night, and shuffled into the bathroom to relieve the pressure of my aging bladder. The house was dark and still. The bathroom was bathed in a soft half light from the feeble rays of a nightlight. My brain wanted to return to bed before the cobwebs of sleep fled from me entirely. I reached for the handle of the commode and pressed it. BANG! I nearly jumped out of my aging skin. The air from the waterline repair had compressed and concentrated itself in the water pipe to my upstairs commode. When I released the trapped air, it detonated like an M-80 firecracker. The explosion rattled the porcelain tank cover and the sound echoed off the bathroom walls. I stood in the middle of my bathroom, perplexed, befuddled, stunned, confused, and bewildered. I tried to sort out what had just happened. Suddenly, it dawned on me. The explosion had been from the escaping trapped air of the water company’s repairs. I must say, it was a blessing that my bladder and bowels were empty at the time or another accident would have probably occurred. The last vestiges of sleep had flown and I sat at my computer until the adrenalin had fled and the desire to meet Mr. Sandman returned.