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Skin like porcelain

I was in the toilet last night.

I am now thoroughly familiar with the

fact that I am not a plumber.

Seven trips to the store—store’ers—three of them, and my…
our new toilet works.

I am not excited. No, she, it, 'Betsy' I’m going to call it, ruined that for me. Any Betsy that takes that much effort for me isn’t worth it. They’ll be no second date. Her deflowering, our first time together(our deflowering?), will go unnoticed; no ahh, no gushing at our joining, or her existence.

Now the garbage disposal on the other hand… twenty-years and I still love her. Do you know what it’s like to not have a garbage disposal? Well, let me tell you… it’s… it’s not convenient. I’ll just leave it at that. You see, we went several years without one. ‘Remodels’—that’s all I should have to say. You’ve either been there or you haven’t. And having work done while you’re off staying in the Hamptons doesn’t count. No, you have to live through it; be there while it’s happening.

You know… if I hadn’t a replaced that valve, the one on the copper, we’d have no water today. Do or die…

Okay, I wasn’t going to say, but I actually had to bust the toilet to get it out of there. I had to break the porcelain with a hammer to get it off of that floor bolt. Then I had to go buy new bolts. Then I had to go buy a hacksaw, then I had to get a new hose; go back again cause the threads were different; then the stupid valve wouldn't quit leaking...

All right, that's enough.


weird thing is i have recently taken a picture of my throne for the letting agents...life is odd at times..then i read a blog entry like this...ha

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