Porcelain God, Dethroned.
Last night, at 8 o'clock pm, as I was attempting to get the toddler to sleep, Big V decided to rip out the toilet in our only functioning bathroom. Because 5 years ago I had walked out of that same bathroom and, after sitting on that same toilet, announced that it was wobbly and probably would need to be re-set.
Of course, I had mentioned the wobbliness, the rocking, the fact our toilet could perform a complete 180-degree swivel and how there was no longer any trace of the caulk that once sealed the base of the toilet at the floor which meant I was now getting a puddle dripped on to my washing machine in the basement below every single time one of the kids took a bath and created their oh so fun tidal wave storms, perhaps once or twice, or roughly 8,762 times throughout the past 5 years.
But he picked 8pm on a Thursday.
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Armed with the knowledge that all local hardware stores were closed for the evening and there was a 99.3% chance he wouldn't have all the parts he needed, Big V forged ahead. See, he's not a "jog around the block" kind of guy. He's a "run 16 miles barefoot across broken glass with angry half-starved bears chasing after you" kind of guy. The man likes a challenge.
Thirty minutes later he called me into the bathroom to point out all the ridiculousness that used to be our toilet. He hammered on about how it had been cobbled together, how it wasn't installed properly, how obviously they didn't know what they were doing.
And I pointed out I didn't have a working toilet.
And he pointed out how the subfloor was actually rotted and thank god we hadn't fallen through to the basement below but now this was going to add some time and expense to the project and, well, maybe he could just find some old two-by-fours in the garage and nail them in from the basement ceiling side for support instead of actually replacing the rotten wood like I'm assuming any normal person would do.
And I pointed out I didn't have a working toilet.
And then he told me that really the toilet was old and they don't make them like that any more and actually he'd never really seen one designed like this and so maybe he'd just have to get a new toilet but that would mean ripping out the whole plumbing system and then what kind of tile would I want on the floor because if he ripped out the plumbing system he would just go ahead and redo the floor because he wanted it to flow.
And I pointed out I didn't have a working toilet.
And then he started pacing around the house muttering to himself while I stared at the mess in the bathroom and then he stopped and said, hey look! There's a plumber's van parked across the street at our neighbor's house where those two guys are drinking beers. One of them must be a plumber. I'm just going to go over there and ask him to take a look at this...
And I pointed out I was going to my mother's.
And at 10:30pm I pulled back into the garage and was greeted by my toilet sitting in the middle of my parking space.
And I made a note that I didn't have a working toilet.
Of course, I had mentioned the wobbliness, the rocking, the fact our toilet could perform a complete 180-degree swivel and how there was no longer any trace of the caulk that once sealed the base of the toilet at the floor which meant I was now getting a puddle dripped on to my washing machine in the basement below every single time one of the kids took a bath and created their oh so fun tidal wave storms, perhaps once or twice, or roughly 8,762 times throughout the past 5 years.
But he picked 8pm on a Thursday.
Armed with the knowledge that all local hardware stores were closed for the evening and there was a 99.3% chance he wouldn't have all the parts he needed, Big V forged ahead. See, he's not a "jog around the block" kind of guy. He's a "run 16 miles barefoot across broken glass with angry half-starved bears chasing after you" kind of guy. The man likes a challenge.
Thirty minutes later he called me into the bathroom to point out all the ridiculousness that used to be our toilet. He hammered on about how it had been cobbled together, how it wasn't installed properly, how obviously they didn't know what they were doing.
And I pointed out I didn't have a working toilet.
And he pointed out how the subfloor was actually rotted and thank god we hadn't fallen through to the basement below but now this was going to add some time and expense to the project and, well, maybe he could just find some old two-by-fours in the garage and nail them in from the basement ceiling side for support instead of actually replacing the rotten wood like I'm assuming any normal person would do.
And I pointed out I didn't have a working toilet.
And then he told me that really the toilet was old and they don't make them like that any more and actually he'd never really seen one designed like this and so maybe he'd just have to get a new toilet but that would mean ripping out the whole plumbing system and then what kind of tile would I want on the floor because if he ripped out the plumbing system he would just go ahead and redo the floor because he wanted it to flow.
And I pointed out I didn't have a working toilet.
And then he started pacing around the house muttering to himself while I stared at the mess in the bathroom and then he stopped and said, hey look! There's a plumber's van parked across the street at our neighbor's house where those two guys are drinking beers. One of them must be a plumber. I'm just going to go over there and ask him to take a look at this...
And I pointed out I was going to my mother's.
And at 10:30pm I pulled back into the garage and was greeted by my toilet sitting in the middle of my parking space.
And I made a note that I didn't have a working toilet.
Comments
You have made my day.