Issue:
1. A problem or situation with which one needs to deal
2. A discharge, gushing or outflow of matter
I awoke on Thursday morning to a rather disturbing issue (definition 1, above).
‘Bloop! Bloop! Bloop!’ said something in the bathroom.
If you have ever awoken to the sound of ‘Bloop! Bloop! Bloop!’ in the bathroom, you will know why I moaned and longed to pull the doona up over my head. You will also understand why I didn’t.
You see, bathroom bloop-bloop-bloops just cannot be ignored. They are, after all, heralding the arrival of sewerage issues (definition 1, above).
At first, I believed the issue to be limited to sluggish drains - sinks taking longer than usual to empty, toilets needing that second flush. But on contacting my local water authority and being urged to go outside to investigate, I was confronted by a vision most disturbing.
The issue (definition 2, above) was no small thing. Vesuvius would have looked like a sputtering, raspberry- blowing babe compared to what was erupting from my overflow drain. It was a plague of poop of dystopian proportions. A sinister sludge of unimaginable filth flowed freely across my veranda and into my garden bed full of newly emerging bulbs. Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear! Never more will I gaze upon daffodils with unadulterated joy.
Worst of all, I wasn't even sure that the issue (definition 2, above) was all our own. Turns out the issue (definition 1, above) was tree roots growing into the sewer mains, and there would have been an issue (definition 2, above) at every house along the street.
I almost proposed to the water authority’s plumber who fixed the issue (definitions 1 and 2, above). If he had stayed at my doorstep a moment longer, I would have forgotten that I am happily married, dropped down on one knee, taken his poop-covered hand in mine and asked him to marry me. Gratitude is a powerful thing. That’s why roses and chocolates work so well upon a girl’s heart. But let me tell you, nothing matches the affection one feels towards the individual who has forced everyone’s poop back underground rather than allowing it to flow freely over the veranda and into one's shoes.
Now, if I can just get over my newly-formed daffodil issues …
