HOW TO FIX A ROCKING TOILET

I know we are not the only household that’s has had something as unique as a rocking toilet. It does not have rockers on it, it doesn’t get up and rock around the clock … err … bathroom, and we don’t live near a railroad track. Sooooo, there’s only one reason this pot should rock. A screw is loose.

We’d both been aware of the rocking that occurred upon planting our fannies on the toilet seat. Fine, so it rocks a little. The Royster discovered that there was something going on when the rug in front of the toilet in the library was getting soaked. Now, it was a problem. It soon became apparent that the plumbers we had to call a couple of years ago, to take care of a sewer line that was being strangled by tree roots, did not seat the pot back on the floor properly. That’s why it rocked, and that’s why the seal was giving up, and that’s why it was leaking.

Neither of us are plumbers, but we try to fix things before having to call a professional to empty our bank accounts. The Royster was getting dressed to go get some parts at Bob’s. Bob has any and everything you need. I dressed while he was gone, and fretted because I knew this would be a very demanding all day project. Seating a toilet on the seal on the floor is not an easy thing to do for a layman. Everything has to line up perfectly before you put the nuts on the bolts. You’ve just got to hold your mouth just so. Then while you are screwing the nuts on, you have to make sure the rectangular washer underneath does not move one tenth of an iota, or the toilet will not be seated correctly. In the small areas allowed for toilets, that are no bigger than tiny coat closets (water closets), this is nearly an impossible task.

The Royster gets what he thinks he’ll need to start this project, and then assumes the position of a plumber fixing a toilet. Part of my job is to fetch the things he did not anticipate needing.

“Get me some towels, rags and the blue shop towels … and a screw driver”

The other part of my job to stand there and hold a flashlight at impossible angles, at which I fail miserably because there is no room to wedge my arm around to the angle that is required. I braced my legs against the walls on either side of the toilet and lean down, bracing my upper body on the wall in front of me with one arm and with the other arm tried to hold the flashlight just right.

“Now, hold this right here and don’t move it.”

Good job. The first part of this went with out a hitch. He unbolted the toilet from the floor. The next step is to empty the tank out, and then empty as much of the water out of the bowl as possible.

“I need a cup to dip with and a bowl or pan to dip it into.”

I occasionally offer advice (coming from a journeyperson apprentice).

“Why don’t I get that siphon with the pump to get all the water out?”

Royster’s face registered a look of disbelief.

“I absolutely do not want to use the siphon we use for gasoline to siphon out the toilet bowl.”

‘Nuf said. Far be it from me to argue with that logic. It must be logical to him. So, I went to get a cup and a bowl for dipping purposes. In the back of my mind, I knew we’d end up with a flood of toilet bowl water on the carpet, and I swung by the rag cabinet for extra big towels for sopping.

Having returned with these simple but necessary accoutrements, I assumed my post by the door, waiting to be of help. I could see we would need something to sit the toilet on, so I fetched the newspapers from that morning, spread them out and readied a place for the pot. The Royster suggested that we needed much more paper than that, so I retrieved more newspaper, and at last had a landing spot for the toilet.

As Royster straddled the pot, and picked up the heavy &%! #&$#@^^%$, and waddled it out of the water closet, I danced in place wondering if he would hit the papers. He sloshed it over to the paper and sat it down. After looking at what was left of the wax seal in the hole in the floor, he announced that he would have to go back to Bob’s or Sears to get a new wax seal. I was invited to accompany him on this trip. We ended up going to Sears and finding our wax seal and some caulk. This should do the trick.

Seeing the gaping hole in the floor made me think about some cultures that only have a hole in the floor with foot holds on either side of the hole to stand in. You just stand, squat or hover over the hole, do your business and presto chango! All done! Why not? Then I guess we could waddle the toilet out to the back yard to use it as a planter somewhere. We already have a shower out there. It might be easier than the day we had ahead of us.

He did say that we'd have to turn the toilet upside down to fit the wax seal on the bottom. So, we did, and all those huge towels came in right handy. The seal would not stay on the upside down toilet, so we ended up putting it over the hole where the old seal had been. We wrestled for the better part of the morning, trying to lock that sucker down without loosing it's hold on the bolts. That was the hardest part.

As I mentioned before, getting that washer, bolt and nut aligned and screwed in place is pretty tricky. I will not describe each effort the Royster made, other than it was both a painful and valiant effort each time. It wasn’t easy on either of us. At one point, we both just went to our separate corners and sulked.

The fifth time was the charm. At last, he got it seated correctly. He gleefully sat down and wiggled his fanny back and forth to see if he could get it to rock. It seemed stable. Dang! We’d done it!

“Be careful!” I said. “You might dislodge the bolts!”

Still not believing that it could possibly be fixed, he jumped up and offered me the revered spot in the library.

“See if you can make it rock!”

I sat gingerly on the seat and wiggled back and forth, forwards and backwards. Not even a little! No leaks either. The Royster is stubborn that way. Once he starts on a fix-it project, he just won’t let it go, nor will he call some one to do it. That’s to be admired … to a point.

This was something to celebrate, and we did this by having lunch and a nap, as babyboomers do these days. And, as soon as I woke, I went in to check to see if the little rug was dry (it was), and tested to see if it rocked. Nope! It was perfect.