A lot of shit!

After a full day of classes and related work, I expect to come back home, have a cup of tea, surf the web for a bit, eat, read, sleep, just the usual, nothing out of the ordinary. After all it is a Wednesday night and I am not the party animal I used to be. I knew however that there was one problem that I had to sort out. This was nothing out of the ordinary though, such things happen. A blocked toilet cannot be allowed to bring me down. My day so far had been pretty good, why should a let a little bit of blocked shit ruin it for me.
So I thought.
I came home and called my landlady and asked her if she would kindly send down a plumber to fix the problem. There, done!
A few minutes later, a young gentleman and his comrade in arms, an older person with a mustache walked in. The young man asks me at the door, "Where is your toilet?",so nonchalantly that I almost told him that our premises were for use by residents only. I figured he must be here for the plumbing job though and I led him to the toilet.
He was there only for the show though, as I found out as the events unfolded. The older man, who was supposed to be the "plumber" and full well knew that it was a blocked toilet we were dealing with here, with massive stress on the word blocked, proceeded to take care of the situation by FLUSHING the toilet.
I stood with my mouth agape, speechless, unable to comprehend, overwhelmed with the man's stupidity.
"Why did you flush it?", I asked. It is a blocked toilet. I did not hear the words of his reply, and all I heard in my mind was, "I am sorry, I am stupid." Following this they left, with promises to come back the next day with better equipment, and crew.
I let it go, angry though I was. Anger rarely helps in such situations. I closed the door separating the restroom from the kitchen area, as the water with fecal matter in it, I might add, restfully flowed out onto the back yard.
As I was in my room, trying to shut the smell out from my senses, I heard another knock on the door. The two comrades were back, with a much older bespectacled gentleman, who I hoped, so earnestly hoped would be a plumber, a real plumber who would rescue us out of this terrible shitty situation.
With a lot of hope in my heart I led him to the toilet, and watched as he surveyed the situation. I cultivated faith for this old hand, and placed my sanity and sanitary life into his hands as I turned away to make sure that the two previous trouble makers were within eyesight, only to hear the sound of running water, which, unmistakably was the flush in all its glory.
"Noooo!", I yelled, but it was too late. The flow of water was now in a much worse case scenario, and the situation had turned quite crappy to say the least. As I held my head in my still clean hands, I heard the incompetent crew discuss the situation. I had lost all hopes by now, and when I heard the flush going down a third time, all I could do was laugh.
I laughed out my anger, frustration and anguish. Sometimes all you can do is laugh at life. What else can be done?
And now I sit here making full use of my outlet, hoping tomorrow shall be a less shittier day...