The Misadventures of Hanna and her Toilet

Did you know that, behind the average bathroom toilet, there exists a little knob that turns your water off?
I learned this just last night.
I am known for staying cool under pressure, for being level-headed and collected even in emergencies in which I'm the injured party. But an overflowing toilet?
I completely lost my head.
As the water cascaded over the edge of the bowl, my initial instincts were to fling all available towels onto my bathroom floor, to staunch the flood, and to drop the toilet lid - neither of which did much to actually stem the overflow. In a panic, I flung open the bathroom door to call to Stephi; my exact words were, "Stephi, my toilet is overflowing and I have no idea what to do!" Stephi, my sweet angel of domesticity, calmly instructed me to turn to the knob and cut the water. I glanced blankly at my toilet, seeing nothing knobby, until kind Stephi suggested that I look slightly lower. Locating the knob, I swiftly spun it to the right, effectively shutting off the water - but alas, my bathroom floor was already flooded and the towels I had flung down were soaked through.
Stephi brought me a pile of towels and a plastic bag; she suggested I wring out the soaked cloth before tossing them into the bag. I attempted to squeeze one towel dry, but the weight of the water-logged terrycloth hindered any decent amount of success - and being in hysterics was of absolutely no use whatsoever. I had succumbed to the giggles, brought on by the vast quantity of water sloshing around my bathroom floor and my utter lack of upper body strength. Stephi, o Patient Angel, was eyeing me warily, quite sure that I'd finally and completely lost my mind.
The hilarity factor is that only a few moments before, Stephi asked if I had any laundry to throw in with her shirts; I claimed to have no laundry. Little did I know...
So yes. Handling a party of drunken college students? Easy. Taking a golf club to the head, and then suffering from a seizure? Not a problem. Very nearly choking to death, by going into anaphylactic shock? A walk in the park. Gushing blood from the shin? Cake.
An overflowing toilet? Terror, then hysteria.
And the sweet irony of the entire situation? I'm the daughter of a plumber.