Oh, mercy. Where to start?
I suppose we start with my childhood. Excuse me while I lie on the couch. As a diaper-wearing baby, I was content, but my passion was as-yet undiscovered.
Then, after toilet training, my love affair began.
Bathrooms are my Valentine.
My first love. My security blanket. Always have been. Ever been on a road trip with me?
Ever just been around town with me?
My parents both back this up. They'll both say there isn't a restroom in my hometown I haven't visited. I really should devote an entire blog to it and call it "My Restroom Adventures", although I'm sure someone has already done it.
Recently, the co-proprietor (for this blog, we'll call him "Evil Pootie") of Cafe 305 took stock of the current bathroom situation and declared it "unacceptable". So part of the Year of the Redo included the bathroom project.
|Yeah. This pretty much sums up my initial reaction.|
THIS ONE!!! You'd care an awful lot if it was YOUR ONLY TOILET!!! Unless you're male, in which case I've gathered from my husband, you don't give a $#@$$. So to speak.
But my own indoor toilet, the only one I have, is mine. My crutch. My binky. My Precious. Whatever. It's MY! PRIVACY! I have issues.
|Dude probably would have been better adjusted if he'd had indoor plumbing. It's pretty obvious he didn't.|
Some people said "Oh, just pretend you're camping!" OK. Sure. I'll play. This is me. Camping.
|I am such a joy to be around. Always. "Where the HELL is my COFFEE?? And my toilet??"|
Five years ago, we redid the bathroom ourselves. That was bad enough. We put in a new sink, stripped the floor down to a lovely pine that was underneath two layers of crappy vinyl, tiled the shower, etc. I thought we were through. The three years and six months that project took, I have mentally blocked.
|Be grateful. Be very, very grateful.|
But no. We failed to think about shower doors. Why put in shower doors? We'd always had shower curtains. So it never occurred to us. And over five years, enough dripping took place that some mildew and "wood compromization" (what Pootie calls "rot", I like my imaginary word better) ensued.
OK, it wasn't that bad. But still.
So we got an estimate on money and the timeline.
|I'm going to be without indoor plumbing for HOW LONG????|
I knew damned good and well what awaited me in the proposed PORTA JOHN!!!
Clearly, the contractor and my husband were in cahoots to kill me. Or rob me of my dignity. Possibly both.
I slept poorly all weekend, knowing they were coming to steal my toilet Monday morning.
The evil but exceptionally cheerful workers arrived and plunked my toilet down in the living room. Yeah, Nick and Brad, I'm talking about you.
|I am bereft.|
We fortunately have the most wonderful neighbors anyone could ask for, and Jesse and Morgan generously volunteered a front door key and full use of their facilities, as did Phillip's parents, who live just a few blocks from us. We were also given this:
I'm sure you can imagine my reaction.
For four long days and nights, I suffered my loss.
I even covered the mirrors with black fabric. Although I do that a lot anyway.
Then today, a miracle occurred.
And Jeffrey the Beneficent bestowed the gift of working plumbing upon 305.
And there was peace in the valley.
Just in time for Valentine's Day.