The night my downstairs bathroom decided to stage a rebellion is etched into my memory with painful clarity. I’d ignored the warning signs for weeks – the subtle gurgle when I brushed my teeth, that faint sewage smell I convinced myself was just my imagination. “I’ll get to it next weekend,” became my mantra until 3 AM on a Tuesday when I woke to the unmistakable sound of water where water shouldn’t be. Standing ankle-deep…