Where does it go?

Monday night, we gave the girls a bath and dressed them for bed. They had their water, a story and lots of kisses. I had just settled them in their cribs when Gene burst into the bedroom to tell me the ceiling had collapsed in his office. And that his desk, and all the papers and books covering it, were soaked.
I abandoned Margaret and Clara to help him assess and clean up, ruing the fact that he doesn't put things away immediately. Neither do I all the time, but I don't have a drop ceiling over my desk. Anyway, it was a bloody mess. Beautiful books ruined, papers he painstakingly collected for his book soaked, disks destroyed. But he was pretty happy, because an hour or so before the bath, he had taken his laptop upstairs. It was fine. Everything else can be easily replaced.
On Tuesday, Gene took apart the innards of the house. Not only did the bathtub line erupt, the toilet also backed up. Why did both these things happen at once? Because they can, of course. Gene learned what caused the line to back up. A little blue hat that Margaret loves. It had gone missing last Friday. Now we know where it went: Margaret dropped it in the toilet and Clara flushed it away. She has the strength in her hands to work the older toilet, while Margaret does not. I wanted to laugh and cry when Gene showed me the poop-covered hat. I could just picture them working out the details, cooperating and giggling together. And getting along. To cry because I can only imagine whatever other mischief they're going to get into. I just hope they don't hurt themselves.
Luckily, Gene had a contracting business and has every tool known to man, as well as the know-how to use them. Otherwise, a plumber's bill would make us very very sad.
I felt like a charwoman, washing towels for what seemed like days and days. Gene has cleaned up his office and found that only one book has permanent damaged. And best of all, thanks to Oxiclean, Margaret's hat is clean enough for her to wear again.