The Battle Against Pot

A few days ago, after Jill left for a visit with daughter Tara in Denver, I noticed the carpet in the bathroom was wet. Let me back up a moment. Prior to this discovery, I had foolishly let the gray water tank get too full. After my shower, I noticed the water was not draining out of the shower pan, a sure sign that it is time to dump.

I did the dumping and thought no more about the situation, until I went in the bathroom later in the day and noticed the wet carpet. Once before I had allowed the gray tank to over fill. In that case, the carpet immediately outside the shower had become wet. In this new incident, I attributed the wet carpet to the overfilled gray tank and the coach, perhaps, sitting at a slightly different angle, causing the water to "settle" in a different area.

Ever the optimist, I tried drying the carpet with towels and a heater with a fan on it. I thought I was making progress, until I got up in the night, used the toilet, and discovered my PJs were wet, where they had lain on the floor during my "business." That was the night before last.

Yesterday, I had to leave early for the drive to the Portland airport to pick up Jill. When we returned home, I found the carpet even wetter. Some investigation showed a little dampness around the place where the supply pipe emerges from the floor behind the toilet. With a heavy heart, I concluded that I needed to remove the toilet and investigate further. (The heavy heart was the result of having removed this toilet once before for a different problem.)

I read the installation/removal instructions in the manual and went to True Value to buy the "right" tools, because I remembered how difficult it was to remove the toilet with the tools I had on hand. I have to admit that the thought of having a "legitimate" reason to purchase some new tools mitigated my heavy heartedness a bit.

Upon arriving back home, and with all due alacrity and dispatch, I attacked the toilet. After some struggling with access to the bolts and more than one skinned knuckle, I had the beast out. I determined that the fitting joining the water supply line to the toilet was leaking. Upon further inspection, it appeared that the compression fitting was slightly deformed, probably as the result of 22 years of having been compressed. I also discovered a hose loose under the toilet and replaced it on its nipple, adding a hose clamp, which was in absentia.

I reattached the compression fitting and had Jill turn on the water pump. Oops! It was leaking worse than before. "Turn it off; turn it off," I cried. I disconnected and reconnected the compression fitting. "Turn it on!" Jill complied. No leak. "Turn it off." I began reseating the toilet and reinstalling washers and nuts on the virtually inaccessible flange bolts. Good, good; that one is on. OK, I think I have... Oh! No!! One of the nuts dropped into an inaccessible recess in the plastic casting that is the base of the toilet.

I removed the one nut I had been able to get on to the bolt, disconnected the compression fitting and removed the toilet again so I could shake the missing nut out of its hiding place. On the next attempt, I got the compression fitting tight and installed the washers and nuts. At last, the toilet was back in its proper place. I picked up my tools, congratulated myself for a job well-done and sat down to relax for the evening.

This morning. I got out of bed and went in to use the bathroom. Funny! The carpet seems wetter than when I went to bed. I reluctantly felt the compression fitting, and Yes! it was drip, drip, dripping on the carpet.

Tune in next time to see if our hero can stop the leak and re-install the pot without using any curse words.