So I get home from work. I'm in a vaguely meh mood because I have cramps. Yes, those kinds of cramps. Deal. Anyway, I get home and the toilet is running running running and I think, "Oh, my brother must have used it and the flap got caught." (He lives with me part of the time because of his job. Today he was home sick, but was out when I got home.)
So I jiggle the handle.
Which comes off in my hand.
Oh. So I open up the tank, and there's the rest of the handle, halfway down the drain. I pull it out and reset the flap and then proceed to inspect the handle. The plastic has sheered off. So maybe I can fix it with superglue.
Scrounge around for the superglue and find it. Huzzah! Take cap off. And find that the brush part of the cap has glued itself shut. Boo.
At this point, the brother returns from getting food. "Toilet handle is broken." I say. "It must have snapped off when you used it last, because I got home and it was running and running running."
"Yeah," he says. "I noticed. I tried to flush and nothing happened, so I opened the tank, lifted up the broken handle until it flushed, then dropped it back in and put the lid back on the tank."
And at this point I'm a combo of
and
. Because... dude. You couldn't freaking PICK UP THE PHONE AND CALL ME to tell me the toilet's broken? Instead, you wait for me to come home and discover it? So not cool.
So I go out in rather a huff and get superglue. Come home. Try to glue the pieces back together. Fail. Brother has retreated to his bedroom, which might have been because of my stomping out in a huff...
So I go out again and buy a handle repair kit. Apparently, this sort of thing happens to toilets. Come back, install the thing. I am a tool user! Raaar!
And now my toilet works again.
It's ice cream time.