I was deep in sleep on Saturday morning when Albie comes bursting into the bedroom.
"Viiiiih-khan! Get up!" he yells in a panicked voice. "Get up, get up, get up!"
I jump out of bed and stand for a second in the dark, dizzy, trying to figure out what's going on. Albie grabs my shoulders and looks straight into my eyes.
"How do you turn the water off on the toilet?"
Immediately, I realize the severity of the situation. I rush into the bathroom. Halfway to the toilet, I notice my feet are already soaked in about an inch of water. Albie stops at the door, throwing down a ton of paper towels behind me.
I turn the little knob and the water stops. (All my plumming experience actually stems from incidents just like this one). Of course, there is still water everywhere - lots of water.
We start throwing old bath towels on the floor, then the hand towels. I refuse to use my nice, new towels. Even if we wash them later, I'm gonna know they've been in "toilet water."
Everything goes in the tub - for now. While Albie is wiping up the last of the water, I get to work on the toilet issue with a plunger and a bucket of hot water. A few minutes later, we are good to go.
We wipe down the whole bathroom to get the toilet smell out of it. I wash my hands, vigorously, and head back to bed. After all, it's only 11 a.m.
"At least I don't have to clean the bathroom today," I think as I slide back under my warm blanket. I mentally check it off my to-do list and fall back asleep.