If I’d known that I would spend “Boxing Day” with my head stuck in a toilet, I would have at least had way more to drink on Christmas Day.
And researching how to retrieve something that was accidentally flushed down the toilet was not the way I planned to spend my day off, either. But hey, I’m always game. Besides, it may just keep my marriage intact. And with enough time, anything becomes a good story. Just maybe not today.
And more annoyingly, I will have to begrudgingly admit that John is right. Kind of. My husband is the only man on the planet who not only doesn’t leave the toilet seat up, he even closes the lid. I consider this to be superhuman behavior. How can he possibly remember to do that? Oh yeah, he’s looking at it the whole time he’s there, more often than not. I have a totally different vantage point.
Besides, I grew up with two brothers, a father, two sisters and a mother in a house with one bathroom. For me as long as there IS a toilet and it is not engaged, I’m game.
Over the years, it’s become a bit of an issue between John and me. He has never given up, not even after 25 years. He preaches, “Close the seat!” and I ignore.
“Dirt, Spray, Germs!” he complains.
“Access!” I respond. And as someone with a 40 year history of bowel trouble, I win.
John finds comfort elsewhere. The guest bathroom. Many female guests have peed on the floor when they wander into our bathroom in the middle of the night and sat down on the pot. I began keeping the mop there, so no one has to own up to it in the morning. But I digress.
You see, in the wee hours of Christmas/not-Christmas night, I did the unthinkable in my husband’s eyes. I changed the roll of toilet paper. With the seat up.
So, now that my research is done, I know that I need a thing called a “closet auger.”
Then I need to spend a whole lot of time in the bathroom without John figuring out what happened. Because, while I will spend my day with my head in a toilet, I ain’t gonna eat crow.