After I went on and on about how I fixed my toilet, the darned thing stopped working again. I hadn't actually fixed it at all.

And I just didn't really know what to do, so I just used the downstairs powder-room and pretended the problem didn't exist.

Until last week. When I meandered through a different big box store, found a part that looked exactly like my (non)flapper, and disassembled my toilet tank. I consulted my dad and sent him a few pictures of a particularly hard-to-unscrew part before pounding the thing with a screwdriver and hammer and breaking it. Which was OK, because the nice, new part just slid right in. And now, my toilet flushes and I don't have to risk my life stumbling down the stairs, half asleep, to find the powder room at 3 a.m.

Luxury, I know.

Moral of this story? Don't be afraid to bribe, cajole, or pout until someone else takes care of these things for you. Because they are a HUGE pain.
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