Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Come use our new toilet!
I’m having a party and you’re all invited. Just be sure to wear comfortable shoes. There’s only going to be one place to sit and it’s the new commode.
See, I’m having trouble finding anyone willing to test drive the new toilet.
The re-doing the bathroom project proved every bit as hellacious as I’d predicted. Me and my buddy Joe tore out the old tile floor, ditched the old sink/cabinet and teeter-totter toilet.
In their place we put a gleaming new tile floor, a new pedestal sink and the new AquaSource 1.28 GPF WaterSense Elongated 2-Piece Comfort Height Toilet
Truly, a throne fit for a king.
The problem is I can’t persuade my darling little princesses to ascend their precious little keisters up upon the royal realm.
I think it’s because I made too big a deal of who’d get to inaugurate the new potty.
This began when I was about half-way through the project and began to sense we’d actually finish. I was feeling heady with accomplishment.
“All right, who’s going to break it in?” I asked. “You need to understand this is a true honor. How many times are any of us going to get the opportunity to say they were the very first to use a brand spanking new toilet?”
I thought my adjectival use of “spanking” and toilet was very deft.
And I was being honest. I remember when we were kids on vacation my brother and I would race to see who’d get to tear off the sanitary seals hotel maids put on the lids to let the guests know the bowl was daisy fresh.
I said the honor should go to good ol’ Joe. He’s a great friend and really did a great job on tiling the floor. I would never have known how to go about it -- and he was just splendid company throughout. He worked expertly, never got angry or frustrated and was just as good company as he is at the bar or on the golf course.
Who knew a guy like that could be fun sober?
“So I think the honor should go to you, Joe,” I said. “Val will cook you up a big bowel-aggravating dinner and we’ll just sit around and wait our turn until you go first.”
My offer seemed to make Joe uncomfortable. Or maybe he has performance issues.
That would be a lot of pressure, akin to a pregnant woman about to deliver a baby with all the nebby in-laws waiting right outside the door to hear if it’s a boy or a girl.
Joe declined the honor. I told him I understood and promised I’d still think of him ever time I used the toilet.
But the whole exchange seemed to affect the girls. I’d convinced them to believe this is some grand honor and the pressure is great.
Of course, I may be reading too much into it, me always happy to engage in crackpot psychology.
Or would that in this case be crackpotty psychology?
I don’t know why they’re so worried. It’s not like I’m going to be standing there outside the door in a white lab smock, holding a clipboard with a list of questions about their experience: Was it comfortable? Any unwanted splashing? Will you recommend the toilet to your friends?
Sure, that’s all important to me, too, but I’m just trying to learn if the thing works.
The old one didn’t at all. Its flush was inefficient. It was poorly secured to the floor and had wiggled back and forth like a rocking chair anytime you shifted your weight.
At the risk of being redundant you could say it was a really crappy toilet.
So I’m thinking of having a potty party.
Re-doing this bathroom was a really big job. There should be ceremony, there should be pomp.
This, to me, isn’t just a place to dump. It’s an HOF DIY achievement.
Not celebrate the new toilet? I feel like we should break a bottle of champaign over the lid like they do when they launch a grand cruise ship.
So, yeah, maybe we’ll have a party. With bubbly. Lots of it.
For some reason, I’m feeling what you could call flush.
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