My knight in porcelain armor

Yesterday afternoon we ran out of toilet paper. I meant to get some on the way home from Kat's tumbling but was too lazy to get out of the car at the grocery store forgot. We used tissues, it wasn't a big deal. We're accustomed to running out of things because I am really lazy and hate grocery shopping a very busy woman. At about 11:00 last night, I really had to poop and remembered we still didn't have any toilet paper. So while I went to the bathroom, Chris went to the store for toilet paper. He was gone for what seemed like an eternity, but he swears it was no more than 10 minutes. Well, I don't have those kind of patience. I don't know, maybe it's from the trauma of being pregnant and not pooping for like 8 months, but I don't like sitting on the toilet for any extended period of time. So I was like, screw it. Tissues it is. I did my business and no sooner did I flush, than I heard Chris pulling in the driveway. I totally planned on giving him a hard time for taking so long, until I looked down. Fucking toilet is clogged and not flushing.

Son of a bitch. Haven't I already done this before? Once again, there's no plunger. I lent it to my ex like a month because he's too cheap to buy his own and I forgot to get it back from him. We have one of those stupid use-less-water-because-it's-good-for-the-environment-but-means-the-toilet-never-flushes-right toilets. So I flushed again. Yeah, that didn't help. So I tried plunging with the toilet brush. Chris pokes his head in the bathroom and sees me furiously shoving the toilet brush in the toilet bowl. He's like, babe, what the fuck did you do? Here, give me the plunger... I was like, actually, the plunger isn't here. Dave has it. He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, like it's MY fault that I was too impatient for toilet paper and I clogged the toilet and we could've plunged it but I let my ex husband borrow our plunger. Ok, maybe it's a little my fault, but I digress.

Chris: I'll borrow one from the neighbors.

Me: You can't do that! They're like 107, and already asleep.

Chris: Well, then I'll just have to unclog it.

Me: How do you propose we do that? We HAVE NO PLUNGER!

Chris: I'll just reach in there and plunge it with my hand.

Me: Ok, do you want me to...wait...what the fuck did you just say?

Chris: Babe, it's got to be done. You don't have to watch.

(he looks wearily at the toilet)

Me: Chris, no. Don't do it. I don't like letting you see me poop, and now you're talking about sticking your hand in it. Don't do it, please? I'll do it.

Chris: Stand back baby. I'm going in.

Me: Noooooo! Please stop!!! Oh God.

He stuck his hand in. Or, more specifically, up to his ELBOW. I was perched on the bathtub, tears rolling down my face from a combination of revulsion and laughter. He turned around and smiled at me, almost got it. The toilet gurgled and bubbled and after about a minute of him using his hand as a fucking plunger in my shit water, all the water went down.

After he showered in scalding hot water and used about a bottle and a half of antibacterial soap, I asked him why he would do such a thing, why not let me handle my own mess? His response? A shrug. That's my job.

That's the grossest/sweetest/most revolting/most chivalrous thing anyone has ever done for me.

My knight in porcelain armor.