Drilling into my soul.

Yesterday, when Christian was doing the laundry, the floor drain that connects to the main water line from the kitchen and bathroom and connects with the sewer line near the driveway googed forth a geyser of poopy water, flooding the area in front of the basement door with sewage and used toilet paper.  Swell.  Christian used the shop vac to suck up all the poo and sucked the drain as clear as he could until the plumber could come to snake out the pipe.  We didn't want to pay an additional $200 bucks for the emergency call when we could wait until morning, so we made an appointment for today, when they came and cleared the clog.  Alas for us, when the extremely expensive plumbers used their equally exorbitantly-priced equipment to give our pipe its videographic fifteen minutes of fame, they found that their camera reached a point in the pipe where it was halted, coincidentally, right under the spot in the concrete floor where Christian had drilled down to anchor a shelving upright and had to stop because the hammer drill encountered resistance.  He, however, didn't stop drilling until the bit became irrevocably stuck.  Yep, Christian drilled right through our sewer line.  With a really big bit.  The plumbers are still here.  So, now there are jackhammers and new pipe fittings and $1,200 of credit-card-paying-off monies all floating around in the filth down there along with my good will.  And I chose last night to drink rum.  Foolish girl.