This last toilet is my toilet: My daily flusher. It is a vintage throne from the 1970s with a giant tank, a perpetually stained seat and a permanent water ring in the bowl. It also spontaneously gurgles and gushes due to slow leak from the flapper that I haven't fixed because I've been planning to replace it every weekend for the past 5 months. My toilet was also going to be (once upon a time) the guinea pig toilet. It was downstairs, so if I did something wrong (as everyone seemed to think I would), the water would leak out onto the cement slab and the not down into the kitchen. It was also the hall bathroom so if I screwed it up, I could use the upstairs toilet until I found an affordable plumber.
But when I set out to begin this toilet adventure, I found that the little valve behind the toilet that shuts off it's water was rusted. In order to replace it, I would have to turn off the water to the whole house. That could be a disaster. I didn't know how long it would take for me to replace the little shutoff valve and with 4 women in the house, all of whom eat are eaters of vegetables, it wouldn't be long before there was a major stinky meltdown mess worthy of its own reality TV show in the house.
So, on this fine Friday night, I was getting excited about my date with Mr. Toilet. I went out to the street to turn the water off to the house. It took me a while to unearth the shutoff valve because it had gotten buried under dirt but I got to it. And I turned it. But it wouldn't turn all the way off. Its rusted just like the one inside. I called the city and talked to a fellow who thought I was a little stupid. He told me to put WD 40 on it. He also told me that that valve is my responsibility, not the responsibility of the city. I sprayed some lube on it and decided to wait until tomorrow.
So instead of spending a perfectly good Friday night on a perfectly productive plumbing project, I am sitting around in pajamas. It is only 6pm. Other homeowner projects on my list include working in the backyard (which ideally utilizes daylight and requires getting free woodchips from the city which are only available on weekdays), painting (which requires sanding and creating a giant mess which I am not ready for), more plumbing stuff (which, again, requires shutting off the water) and getting a big girl bed (which is the future topic of a long overdue blog post).
It is Friday night and thanks to some rusty valves, I have nothing to do.
There is no word from Teapot who seems to be uninterested in traditional dating schedules (I can't blame him) and who has also explained to me that he is "Type B" and I am "Type A". He pointed out that Type As get bored but Type Bs are OK no matter where they are.
I get bored a lot.
But life isn't boring for long. Even while I was writing this post I talked to one roommate about going to a movie and my fellow Singlutionary, Handy Woman called. My parents called too.
*If you haven't yet entered my this week's giveaway remember to post a comment before the end of the day on Sunday. And never fear for there are many more giveaways to come.