We got home from soccer practice last night, and I went to make my evening coffee. As I poured water into the coffee maker, I felt a drop hit my arm. Figuring the water had splashed off the edge of the reservoir, I straightened my pour and continued. I reached into the cabinet for a filter and set it in place. Another drop hit my arm.
"Where is this water coming from?" I looked up. "Oh, no, the toilet!!" On our way home, we had debated stopping at the store for a new handle for the toilet. It flushes fine, but if you don't hold the handle until it's done, it runs. On and on. Forever. We decided not to stop last night because it was out of the way, we didn't need anything else, and we were tired. As soon as we walked in the door, the five-year-old used the toilet. It apparently was clogged and began overflowing. Only it didn't stop, because of the broken handle.
Hubby instantly jumped up and ran upstairs. I shouted for the boys to bring all the towels they could carry and we all ran up. It took a bit of time, but we got all the water cleaned up. So I came back downstairs to assess the damage.
The water still ran down the wall and the fronts of the cabinets like a river. Plus, it was raining about two feet out. Raining in the kitchen. Not good. Hubby got a bucket and a screwdriver and poked a hole in the ceiling over the cabinets, to let the water drain. It worked pretty well. Then we could go about cleaning the counters, which had turned into a small lake. Not fun.
I think we'll be going to the store tonight.