Hey there,
Really trying to hammer through some stuff, and with the city being on quasi-quarantine and no trips planned for a bit, hope to knock out a bunch of backlog next couple of weeks.
For today, want to relate a few things from a week in mid-January in the Bay Area. I went solo as my sister had a couple of trips planned and 93 year old mom, who is doing well for a 93 year old with a couple of major surgeries in her recent past, gets anxious if family is not around.
I go to SF a lot and it is no secret that we have a hate/love relationship...I hate that place and it loves to fuck with me. I often recount the time I was house/dog sitting and the mutt had a stroke and was paralyzed. I ended up having to put him down (being in the room with him when that happened haunts my dreams) while also hurting my back by picking him up to the point I will be forever damaged. A dark day. So I always go with equal parts anticipation of enjoying the area and knowing that something unexpected is going to happen. This time, it didn't take long.
Parental advisory...the next few paragraphs involve poopy talk.
I arrive early the day before my sister and brother-in-law (BIL) leave town and after a brief chat, my sister leaves for work and BIL takes the (new) dog for his morning constitution. I go upstairs and take a pee and then go to make the bed and unpack in the room I'm staying. I come out of the room and there is water gushing out of the bathroom. A lot of it. The toilet is still running so lift the tank lid and see the chain has come off, so drop the plunger to stop the water flow. It shouldn't overflow because of that, but the theory is that my nephew who was living there at the time dropped a load that morning that plugged it and the combination led to the disaster. Fortunately, I know where they keep the towels and it took 10-12 to mop up the water that by this time had reached well into the hallway. I go downstairs to find the plunger and then see a waterfall going into their dining room that had leaked from above. BIL returns just in time to see me finishing off mopping that up. I feel bad but know it wasn't entirely my fault, but I have a reputation and so know no one will believe me. BIL does say that water has come through the ceiling before and says that was due to their other son taking a too long shower with his girlfriend. Sexy time.
The next morning as we're getting ready to go to take them to the airport, I need to go number 2. Already fearful of the upstairs toilet, I head down to the one downstairs.
Will say at this point that I came to SF after 3 days in Taiwan and after 2 weeks in Germany before that, and I don't know about you, but flying is constipating to me and having so many long hauls has confused my bowels. As a public service announcement, to help avoid this my recommendation to you is to stay well hydrated and get extra fiber. I can say this with total confidence after a week eating a ton of dates that it really lubricates this old guy's plumbing.
Speaking of old plumbing...this morning I have a bowel movement that was a long time coming. It was one of those that will live in memory as it was massive and painful to the point of breaking some blood vessels. It was so hard that upon wiping, the paper was so clean that one could resew it back onto the roll for another use. My point being that I used very little paper. As this is family that knows me, I exit proud and share my delight of having lifted so heavy a load. A few minutes later, my nephew comes to me and says that he just took a leak and that the toilet is now completely blocked. This time, there is no question I did the deed and so was my responsibility to take care of the blockage. Fortunately, there was no overflow and knowing quite well where the plunger was, I grab it and go to work...and it will not go down. Not only that, but whatever I left earlier explodes into a nightmarish Chunky soup. I am a proud Super-pooper, but there is no way humanly possible for this to be just my creation and suspect a blockage somewhere deep down the line. I take them to the airport and then call Roto-Rooter to do their worst. $250 later, the incident was over. Is it me or SF that brings it out of me? Regardless, the legend grows.
Postscript...a few days later I come back to their place (BIL has returned by this point) and see buckets catching water from a leak upstairs in a different area. Seems that their newish washing machine overflowed and cascaded downstairs. This time it was blamed on the nephew for overstuffing it with a comforter. I know my reputation deservedly casts me as the villian in the toilet schemes above, but I know in my heart that nephew is the true culprit in all of the above. Since he is his mother's little baby, he will never take the rap.
Couple of other things I found funny to share. The first weekend I was in town happened to be the Divisional Round of the playoffs. On Saturday, the Niners advanced and on Sunday afternoon, the Seahawks were set to play Green Bay and if they won, would be coming to SF the next weekend to play to go to the Super Bowl. This year, the Seahawks running backs all got season ending injuries and they brought back Marshawn Lynch for the playoff run so I was able to break out my old Seahawk Lynch jersey and brought it along to wear for the games. I go over to my Mom's Assisted Living place to watch and am wearing his #24. I go through the lobby to step outside for a bit before gametime and behind me I hear this woman start to boo. I turn around and she is this old bat in a wheelchair and with thumbs way down yelling "Seahawks...booo!". I don't care who you are, even an old lady in a wheelchair, I am not gonna let that slide unaddressed. I am nice though and say that wouldn't it be great if they met for the NFC Championship next week after having split two games this year, both in dramatic fashion? She looks at me like a a Fox News viewer who I just told I love Obama and once again gives me a loud BOOOO!. I relate this story later that night to my sister who says, "Oh, that was Bill Walsh's widow...she lives next to mom and she loves her Niners." I'll give her a pass and hope she survived the humiliation delivered by KC in the Superbowl. Getting heckled by football royalty is a badge of honor.
Was able to use my sisters Subaru this week and am pretty sure I related the fact that it beeps and dings incessantly and that there is no way to turn off the sounds. It drives her nuts too but she is in it until the lease expires. One day I am driving and since there is no one ahead or behind me to the horizon, change lanes without signaling. Her car has that feature that beeps whenever one does so without blinking, ostensibly telling the driver that they are veering lanes. Over the previous few weeks have been joking with he kids about Karens...if you don't know what a Karen is I suggest you consult the Urban Dictionary on the matter. Anyhoo, I name her car Karen cause that thing is always demanding to see my supervisor.
Lastly...one day am sitting in my mom's apartment talking about something I can't remember, and she is uninterested and spouts the line, "I don't care cause I don't care." Beautiful and immediately know this will become part of my canon. Was at dinner with the family later on and relate this nugget of wisdom and BIL says it reminds him of some article he read about euphemisms around the world and one that stuck with him from Poland. If a Pole is talking about a problem but he doesn't want to get involved, he will say "not my monkey, not my circus" Who says the Poles are not geniuses. Copernicus and now this? Upon research, this is a line that millenials have adopted and is properly said as "not my circus, not my monkeys". I prefer the way I heard it more and I love that line so much and have used it with great effect since.
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