Couldn’t fall asleep last night. At 2am went to the bathroom to poop. Toilet clogged. This is a normal occurrence at our apartment. I poop about three times a day and the toilet clogs about once every week or so. Usually I’m able to plunge things right. Not last night. Not after thirty minutes of late night plunging which resulted in me having a quarter-sized blister on my hand. Not after twenty minutes of early morning plunging today. That thing was clogged. I peed in a bottle and headed off to work. The landlord sent a plumber over after I got home from work. About ten minutes ago the landlord, the plumber and myself marched into the bathroom to face the thing. The plumber confidently said that we just needed to plunge it. I assured him that I’d tried and that this was a more serious matter. He asked me if anything had fallen into it out of the ordinary. I said no. He again replied that we just needed to plunge it. I showed him my blister, now covered with two self-administered band-aids, as evidence that I had already made an earnest plunging effort. ‘Great’ I thought to myself as I showed my battle wound, ‘This plumber doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m going to have to shit in a plastic bag tonight.’ At this point the plumber took the plunger, inserted it firmly into the toilet, made three firm pumps, and unclogged the toilet. He smiled politely as we waited in silence for the toilet to fill for a test flush. It flushed. What does this mean? That I’m not an adult? That I’m not a man? That I am an adult awkward fool man? Shame. Shame shame shame.