One more kick to the groin

I've obviously angered Poseidon, the God of the Sea. My sacrifice to him this year may have been too small, or perhaps it was the hubris I showed when I told everyone that I wasn't so impressed with sea-squalls anymore. Last night, he got his revenge, and I have the feeling this is going to be the start of a very long journey to avoid his wrath; an Odyssey if you will.
Last night, I vacate the bathroom for my suitemate so he can get in there. He goes in there, and when I go back in to take a shower he informs me that the toilet is clogged. Since he was the last one to use it, I suggest he plunge it. He tells me that it was probably my fault, so I should plunge it. We get to really arguing over it. Finally, because I'm a nice guy, I agree to do it, but since I don't want to, I go back one more time and press down the handle to see if we can't just clear the pipes without going to the plunger.
It doesn't clear. Not only does it not clear, the flusher gets stuck down, and starts pouring water. There's water flowing everywhere. Everywhere. Full on flood. I knock my suitemate out of the way, run into the other room where the plunger is, wade back into the bathroom and start furiously plunging the toilet, all while my suitemate just stands there with a shocked look on his face. I'm going at the plunger so hard I break it in the toilet. At this point I'm thinking it done, it's all over, I'm going to cover the entire house in toilet water. But another Greek God, perhaps Aphrodite, intervenes at this point, and miraculously clears the toilet. This is not before the toilet has completely overflowed the bathroom and has run water all the way to the kitchen. Also, I forgot to mention, this all happened at 1 AM.
My host brother wakes up, comes out, probably thinks about breaking my face, and then smiles and tells me its alright. I'm on the verge of tears, and my suitemate just keeps going "Man, at least this is both our faults right. How much would it suck if it was just one of our faults and we couldn't share the blame." I try to explain to him that I don't really want to share the blame at all, but I'm afraid if I start talking a single solitary tear will roll down my cheek. So I just grab some towels, put them down on the floor, and start trying to squeegee the water into a bucket. It's the slowest, most disgusting work possible. Ivan, the host brother, is helping too, using a mop to try and push water back into the bathroom. I'm not gonna go into details, because I'm not sure you guys could handle the details. My suitemate, when cleaning the shower, at one point started almost throwing up. I gave him a deathstare and told him that if he puked and made the whole thing worse I would end his life.
Then in an effort to make us feel better, we asked Ivan if something like this had ever happened before. He smiled at me, slapped my back, and said "Of course not, never, I've never seen anything like this." But he remained cheery the entire time, and helped us out.
So at 3 am, after one of the worst experiences of life, I get done. I finally turned the shower onto about 120 degrees, and scrubbed myself for about 30 minutes. Then I sobbed a little, and then I went to bed. Next week I continue the journey while fate continues to throw more roadblocks in my path.