Every party has a pooper

Before leaving Utah I was keen to set up as many pieces of our situation in California as possible, knowing I'd arrive exhausted and debilitated and violent in a way one only experiences in the wake of packing one's earthly belongings.  The biggest detail, house-hunting, was taken care of; a happy little rental awaited us on August first, giving us a week or so to stay with Ryan's sister, recover, and quit fantasizing about torching everything we own.

Predictably, when we arrived, Ryan became so immediately consumed by work as to be unavailable to move our stuff from our garage, where we'd stashed it until the actual apartment was ready for move-in.  I, encumbered by a toddler in a way that mothers of toddlers will likely understand viscerally, am not well-equipped to haul large objects because my hands are generally full of an increasing large and opinionated person. So we stalled a bit on the moving-in, instead enjoying the bed-and-breakfast-like conditions provided by Ryan's sister, swimming in the pool, playing with the cousins, and happily avoiding the contents of that garage. At least, that's what I did. Ryan was working. You win some you lose some.

At any rate, by August 7 we decided enough was enough and so Ryan went over to our place with his dad and brother-in-law to move in our beds and a pile of boxes so I would have something to unpack and, to my chagrin, resume contributing to society.  Upon opening the front door, they saw standing water throughout the apartment. Further investigation confirmed the origin of the water which turned out not to be water so much as it was raw sewage.  Human waste. A storm of a most indelicate nature.

A backed up pipe, presumably, was to blame for the mess throughout the house. The bedroom carpets were soaked, and, horrifyingly, the toilet and bathtub filled to the brim with exactly what you're imagining.

We were mighty pleased with ourselves for not having moved any of our stuff in yet.  Chalk one up for procrastination!

I am hopeful that the hazmat team's efforts, insurance company's contributions, and landlord's diligence will allow us to move in eventually with confidence that no traces of a regurgitated sewer line remain.  In the meantime, if you need me, I'll be at the pool.