Is It Possible to Miss Plunging Toilets?

by Emily Wain Bussen, Assistant Director

A couple months ago, I was walking back from the kitchen area towards our offices when a guest stopped me.

"Hey, Emily! Bathroom number three is overflowing. You might want to check it out." 

Sure enough, I looked over and water was gushing out the door. The water had accumulated and was at least an inch high on the bathroom floor. I knew I had to turn off the water, but I wasn't looking forward to making my way through the slush to the shut off valve.

I didn't have my rain boots but thought of how one of our guests always wore plastic bags on his feet when it rained. I grabbed a couple plastic bags, threw them over my shoes, and headed towards bathroom stall number three. 

I managed to turn off the water valve, grabbed the plunger from behind the toilet, and started going at the clogged pipe. I was able to get it cleared pretty quickly, but not without some of the ground water splashing around my ankles. I grabbed the broom and swept a good amount of the water off the floor before using a mop to finish the job. 

At this point, one of our guests jumped in to help me, making sure the stall was ready to reopen for those patiently waiting in the bathroom line. 

I would be lying if I said that in the moment I found that experience enjoyable. And, I suppose, I still wouldn't call it enjoyable, per se, but I can say without hesitation that I miss it. 

I never thought I would say that I miss plunging toilets, but I do. 

Because if I were plunging a toilet at the Center, I would also get all the other pieces that come with that experience. I would get to be working alongside my wonderful coworkers and phenomenal volunteers. I would get to interact with guests who are a constant reminder that the challenges of my day are small in comparison to their daily trials. I would have the benefit of providing comfort to others, which in turn, feeds my soul well beyond the hours of the work day. 

I miss it all.

These days, with COVID-19 forcing us to close the doors at the Center, I’m forced to reckon with all of the things I’ve taken for granted. Sharing space and being in close proximity to guests and coworkers and volunteers without questioning if we can harm or infect one another is something that seems like part of a distant past. Before, a clogged toilet was my idea of a small crisis, and now seems like a welcome challenge, because it is one I know I can fix. In a world that is now so uncertain, I cherish the times I knew that I had an answer to the problem at hand.  

I know when we reopen I will cherish these moments like never before. So, is it possible to miss plunging toilets? That’s a definitive yes from me. When we reopen, (and feel free to hold me accountable to this) I promise I will not complain about plunging toilets!