To Sump or Not to Sump

So, let me start by saying, "Sorry, Seth, for thinking that you had broken the bathroom fan and that you were the cause of the hideous siren noise going off in the house at 7:30 am Tuesday."

'Tis true.  I thought Seth was the culprit.  After all, he was in the bathroom when my sublime morning thoughts were yanked from me by a nightmarish mechanical wrenching sound 

coming from 

the bathroom.  

I found myself in the chilly garage in front of the circuit breaker box flipping switches off and yelling, "Did the noise stop yet?" to Meghan and Seth only to hear their response of, 
"Nope.  It's still going."  

Finally, I found the right switch.  

Sadly, it was labeled 

sump outlet.  

"WHAT, PRAY TELL, DOES THAT MEAN?!!  

We don't have a basement!  What do I need a sump for?"

Pictures in my head came rushing back to me like a bad flash back from the TV series "Lost."  

Me...eyes open...hands reaching...pulling on wooden bench in our closet....

me....pulling and discovering mysterious insulation....

me...being engulfed in not-so-pleasant of an odor.  

"This has something to do with our toilet!"  I deducted.

My knight in shining armor confirmed my fears 

and 

informed me that this was a job for 

the landlord's maintenance man.  

Oh, it is good to rent at times like this!

Obviously, I did NOT want our entire wardrobe to soak up the stench that would be released once that lid was removed from the sump pump, so I quickly relocated our clothes 

OUT of the cursed closet.

Who is the wise-guy who put the sewer pump in a closet anyhow!!!

Well, the rest of the story is that some 

ding-dong (previous tenant) 

had flushed a wash rag down the commode, 

thus locking up the pump which lifts the yuck 

and shower/sink water up and 

out to the street pipes.  

Needless to say, I lay aside all my concerns of my carbon stains on ceilings and walls en lieu of freshening up the air in our home and set ablaze my candles.  
The weather was also on our side as it had decided to be dry so we could have our windows open as well.

And as I sit here in my comfy-cozy chair, 

as survivor of the stuck-up sump, 

everything is back to it's normal 

fresh cotton 

and 

apple spice scent.

My psyche, on the other hand, still causes me to twitch 

when I glance in the direction of the pump..

..pulling me back into the memories of 

morning mayhem, putrid grossness, 

the horrid hole of sump; 

memories I would like to remove...to delete....

to

 f

    l

       u

          s

              h.