So what've you been doing tonight?
Sep. 16th, 2006 05:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
constanceGuess what I've been doing for the last hour or so? Well, you'll never guess, so I shall tell you.
I woke up this morning from a night of freakish dreams about babies (deformed and abandoned by me, mostly; issues much?) and realized I had to go to the bathroom, made my way to the toilet, and, with an overflowing suavity the likes of which this world has rarely seen, tripped at just the right moment and hit the toilet tank at just the right angle, so that the whole thing cracked in six pieces and water poured out all over the floor in surprising amounts (what looks like not a whole lot when contained in a toilet tank looks like a whole lot more when poured on the floor at four-thirty in the morning, when it takes you a second to realize what's happening because your brain is still dwelling on mental pictures of babies with six eyes, and you're standing in the dark besides).
So I've cleaned it all up; stuck all my towels in the wash; finally got to use the bathroom; thanked Bachelor No. 2 for his fruitful grace in providing me with a second bathroom to use if I were ever dumbass enough to break the toilet in the first bathroom in the middle of the night; shooed the pets out of the second bathroom (which they never see; they displayed a surprised delight at its existence the likes of which I would reserve for those occasions I might open my armoire and discover a magical kingdom hidden therein); and discovered online that one might purchase a toilet tank on its own, thus sparing oneself both the expense and the logistical challenge of purchasing and transporting an entire toilet in the back seat of a Saturn.
Not a bad day's work, considering that it is now only 5:30 am and the alarm telling me that it is time to get up and start getting ready to go to work hasn't even rung yet, though that is coming, yea, inevitable as the tides. I guess I should go back to sleep, but somehow I can't see my way to it, and instead will add one last thing before going off to shower: I am thanking providence that this happened after the replacing of toilets became my responsibility, and not before, because the idea of calling a landlord and telling that landlord that I broke a toilet using nothing but my fat body and my own incomparable falling skills just makes me shudder. I will willingly pay the hundred dollars if it means I get to forego that pleasure.
I woke up this morning from a night of freakish dreams about babies (deformed and abandoned by me, mostly; issues much?) and realized I had to go to the bathroom, made my way to the toilet, and, with an overflowing suavity the likes of which this world has rarely seen, tripped at just the right moment and hit the toilet tank at just the right angle, so that the whole thing cracked in six pieces and water poured out all over the floor in surprising amounts (what looks like not a whole lot when contained in a toilet tank looks like a whole lot more when poured on the floor at four-thirty in the morning, when it takes you a second to realize what's happening because your brain is still dwelling on mental pictures of babies with six eyes, and you're standing in the dark besides).
So I've cleaned it all up; stuck all my towels in the wash; finally got to use the bathroom; thanked Bachelor No. 2 for his fruitful grace in providing me with a second bathroom to use if I were ever dumbass enough to break the toilet in the first bathroom in the middle of the night; shooed the pets out of the second bathroom (which they never see; they displayed a surprised delight at its existence the likes of which I would reserve for those occasions I might open my armoire and discover a magical kingdom hidden therein); and discovered online that one might purchase a toilet tank on its own, thus sparing oneself both the expense and the logistical challenge of purchasing and transporting an entire toilet in the back seat of a Saturn.
Not a bad day's work, considering that it is now only 5:30 am and the alarm telling me that it is time to get up and start getting ready to go to work hasn't even rung yet, though that is coming, yea, inevitable as the tides. I guess I should go back to sleep, but somehow I can't see my way to it, and instead will add one last thing before going off to shower: I am thanking providence that this happened after the replacing of toilets became my responsibility, and not before, because the idea of calling a landlord and telling that landlord that I broke a toilet using nothing but my fat body and my own incomparable falling skills just makes me shudder. I will willingly pay the hundred dollars if it means I get to forego that pleasure.
