Crisis---of a sort (The Runaway Bidet

 I have no plumbing skills or knowledge thereof, and I suspect that if there had ever been a need, I would have recused myself from attempts to rectify any problems. In the more than seven years I have been living alone, I have dealt with problems as they arose, to the best of my ability.

  Occasionally, and for no apparent reason, I notice that the toilet is running. So I jiggle the handle and it stops, or flush again, and it stops. Today, the toilet was running and jiggling the handle and re-flushing had no effect. I know there is a flap inside the tank that sometimes can fail to fall into the right place, so I removed the top of the water tank in an attempt to see if the flap was out of place. I couldn't see if it was or not, so pressed on a few surrounding pieces. In that process, the black cap atop one of the pipes came off, and a geyser erupted, spewing water up into the air and all over me, drenching my face and clothing. After I dried off, and changed my clothes,  I tried to replace the cap, but with difficulty, as the force of the water was too great. Water, water, everywhere, the floor, the counter, the walls...I pressed down on the cap as hard as I could and put the lid back on to contain the water. 

  Now what to do. I'd looked on the side of the toilet for a shut-off valve, but found nothing there. Normally I would have called Joe T. but knew he was having a scheduled  in-hospital procedure that very day. I considered calling the Fire Department for help, but they now would have to come from Johnsonville as Valley Falls no longer has one. I called David, but no answer, probably no longer has a landline. I called Danny who tried to help me find a shut-off valve, to no avail. I went to the basement to look for the valve, and the water is leaking down from the ceiling beams and puddling on the floor, with no valve in sight.   Danny exercised executive privilege and called Marilyn's house anyway. 

  In short order, the whole family arrived here and the problem was resolved. I understand replacement parts are available but I prefer to opt for a complete new unit. Something free of care for the next 57 years.

Cop Cam noted

 85-year-old woman in Idaho called 911 saying an intruder had broken into her house, handcuffed her to a chair and with his gun pistolwhipped her into telling him where her valuables were. She told 911 she was still handcuffed to the kitchen chair (Hallelujah) and had been shot several times by the intruder. She requested medical help. The responder sounded somewhat skeptical, but told her police and ambulance were on the way. Responder asked where the intruder was now. The woman said in the kitchen, on the floor, dead. Turns out the victim had sent the intruder downstairs in search of her valuables, and had then maneuvered her handcuffed chair into her bedroom, took her  gun from under her pillow, and then, concealing it, returned to where she had come from. When he came back into the room, they exchanged gunfire, with her receiving several gunshot wounds and he 2 of the fatal nature. 

  That's what old women do. On Turnpike Road in Lansingburg, Ann D. kept hidden on her frail body a pair of the largest, sharpest scissors I've ever seen. ***For all the years, B. lived alone (possibly before), she kept a sharp deadly looking butcher knife under her pillow. I used to tell her that if she was ever the victim of an attack in her bed, and brandished the knife, it would most likely be used against her. It would be very hard to stab somebody while lying down. She said she knew that, but kept the knife beneath her pillow anyway. ***A gun would be more effective, but I am still haunted by the prospect of a nightmare scenario on Charming Lane. When D. lived there alone, she was far from old and was trained in the use of the loaded gun which she kept beneath her pillow. I wasn't at the house at the time of the unfolding of events as I'd driven my mother to a doctor in the nearby city, but there are still a few who will have some memory of the horror of what could have happened when a distracted by visitors gun owner forgets about the gun under the pillow, and pre-school aged children are allowed access to that bedroom, while the adults are visiting elsewhere in the house. It is a reminder for me to keep saying my prayers. 

Want to test yourself?

 If you would like to spend 45 minutes answering this question about the poem "Winter Landscapes" I will gladly grade your response, but unfortunately can grant no credit. (This was my mid-term exam for English 29.  Prompt:  "Tell what this poem intends to convey, and how this intention is carried out by development of poetic ideas, images and prosodic devices."    (O lordy, this is a long winter already.)

Winter Landscapes

Come home with white gulls waving across gray

Fields. Evening. Daffodil West.

Somewhere in clifts of rock the birds hide, beast to breast.

I warm with fire. Curtain shrouds dying day.

Alone.  By the glowing ember

I shut out the bleak-tombed  evenings of November. 

And breast to breast, those swans. Sheep huddle and press

Close. Each to each. Oh,

Is there no herd of men like beasts where men may go?

Come home at last; come, end of loneliness.

Sea. Evening. Daffodil West.

And your thin dying souls against Eternity pressed.