E-mail to colleague first thing: “I won’t be at the office this morning. I’m getting new toilets.”
And just in time. The hard-to-lift boxes had to get out of the Large Smelly Boymobile before Dungeons & Dragons Dad picked up six Large Smelly D&D Players.
The last story started there but veered to pants. And kilts.
Mr. Scatter pointed out in a baffled, you-gotta-be-kidding voice, “You don’t talk about toilets again?”
Mrs. Scatter: “Uh … no.”
Mr. Scatter: “What happened to the toilets?” (As if he personally doesn’t know how the story ends and what’s in our bathrooms.)
Mrs. Scatter: “Uh … I ended up talking about pants.”
Mr. Scatter (in the same incredulous voice): “When are you going to finish talking about toilets?” (As if this were a perfectly normal question.)
Mrs. Scatter: “Uh … in another post.”
Let’s refresh the story so far – including the wayback blog parchment days ago:
- Leave beloved job.
- Shop maniacally for soap dispensers.
- These two happenstances may or may not be cause and effect.
- Flirt with hose blaster.
- Flirt with floozy garden nozzle.
- These two happenstances may or may not produce offspring.
- Female parts do not attach to other female parts.
- Misplace male part.
- Desperate for a menage a coupling device.
- Invitation comes from neighbor to look in her drawers.
- Plumbing attachments are really orgies.
- Auger label says it retrieves wash cloths, diapers, toys.
- Auger directions say, “Don’t force the snake! Let the boring head do the work.”
- Plumbing disease is contagious.
- Plumbing disease spreads to coast.
- Plungers stick to faces, even in public.
- Cheez-Its defile Large Smelly Boymobile.
- Cheez-Its clutter up professional dignity.
- Penguin gets whacked.
- Fresh, salty bread goes phallic.
- Martha/Felix learns the facts of sweet transvestites.
- Vow to never again plunge toilets while wearing only fuzzy slippers.
- Pull on pants and go buy toilets.
- Toilet-buying and pants-buying unmysteriously go together.
Which somehow brings us to chauffeuring toilets all over town.
- On a sunny Sunday afternoon, two muscly guys lifted two heavy big boxes full of spanking new toilets into the Large Smelly Boymobile.
- The two boxes were way too heavy to get back out of the Large Smelly Boymobile.
- The two boxes were way too big to leave around the house.
- The two heavy overbig boxes were left in the van.
- I called a plumber and left a message.
- I drove the two heavy overbig boxes to the office.
- I started to worry when I didn’t hear back from the plumber.
- I drove the two heavy overbig boxes to a meeting with a lot of colleagues.
- I drove the two heavy overbig boxes to a board member’s house.
- The plumber called, and we made an appointment for Thursday morning.
- Thursday was perfect, I thought. Just in time to get the hard-to-lift boxes out of the Large Smelly Boymobile before Dungeons & Dragons Dad picked up six Large Smelly D&D Players.
The plumber arrived. He made a bunch of noise in the bathroom and then said, “Where do you want the old toilets?”
“Great,” I said. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
I opened the back of the van and realized a chunk of my day would be shot getting rid of crappy porcelain.
The plumber’s boss arrived.
We got two new toilets that flush and don’t wiggle.
After the plumbers left, I zeroed in and got a bunch of work done. The clock ticked away. It inched into the afternoon. Long past lunchtime. And then I remembered. I had old toilets in the back of the van. I had to drive to the recycling center in the hell-and-gone suburbs and be back in time for D&D Dad to take the van. It was either that or he would have to chauffeur six Large Smelly Boys while two toilets clunked around.
I had a deadline. I had to scoot. As one of the plumbers said, “Be careful around the curves. That bowl can go flying.”
To be continued … one more time.
— Laura Grimes
Illustrations, from top:
An ancient Roman public toilet: The group approach was perhaps the rise and fall of the Roman Empire … going … going … gone. Wikimedia Commons
An 1800s Dutch bidet with Chinese porcelain: A creative mix and match elevates the idea of crappy porcelain. Wikimedia Commons