I dig toilets. I dig them so much that in boxes and photo albums around my house, I have photos of toilets I’ve visited all across the world.
I dig toilet humor. To live in this house, you pretty much have to laugh while you’re cleaning up the “toilet type” messes made by children (and animals) every single day.
I can’t say I dig TW’s toilet issues, they make me sad, but I’ve gotten use to them. So use to them that I only say “what are you doing” a few times a day, as she gets up from her spot on the bed next to me, over and over again. The illness formerly known as Ulcerative Colitis but now renamed Crohn’s means that toilets are an even more important part of my life than ever before.
When TW disappears in a store, I don’t immediately think she’s wandered off to impulse shop in private (though she sometimes still does this), instead I assume she’s headed to the restroom and I’ll find her again eventually.
On car trips, I use to live by my father’s rule of only stopping if the dog needed to use the bathroom (and since I try to never travel with the dogs) we rarely stopped. Now, I barely sigh when we stop at rest stops all over the US, even if we’ve just stopped at a gas station 20 minutes ago.
I dig toilets and I understand toilets. I have absolutely no issue with toilets, I don’t even really mind cleaning them though I prefer not to ever enter the bathroom that the children use and TW cleans ours (it’s the least she can do since she uses it the most and since I do all of the freaking laundry, right).
TW and I have even hashed out our toilet paper problem. The over/under question has caused us to have some serious discussions over the last four years. Recently TW put her foot down and decided it would go “over” the top. Which is fine, I prefer it that way. But what was good was finally getting a “decree” because I would often try to be nice (since she uses so much TP) and put it under for her. She, being marshmallowy, would put it over for me. So, neither of us was ever really happy about it. In the dark, it’s tough to know which way to pull when there’s no consistency.
So why am I blogging about toilets? Since I dig them and have no serious toilet issues? Well I do, actually, have a toilet issue. And, I thought TW and I had that sussed before I ever moved to Florida. I thought we resolved that and she understood just how strongly I felt about this one issue. It does, after all, effect my hairbrush and I have SERIOUS hairbrush issues.
I do not want my hairbrush anywhere near toilet water. Ever. And if it comes in contact with said water, or you even think it MIGHT have come in contact, then the brush goes into the trash. Not back on the counter. Not in the dishwasher. Not in a pot of boiling water and not in the basket on the toilet tank lid.
We resolved this. In SC. Didn’t we?
She is the one who still talks about my ex who sold a car with my hairbrush still in it. (A story I am often sorry I told her because of how often she mentions this)
She is the one who drove 7 hours, not leaving her house til 11pm, with three children simply to bring me back the hairbrush I had left at her house earlier that day.
She is the one who scoured the internet, grocery stores, drugstores, Super K, Super Wal-mart and Super Targets all over the country, not to mention every rest stop in the southeast in search of the special pink Goodys hairbrush I prefer.
If she knows all of this, and she obviously does, then why did I find her talking about cleaning toilets with a pumice stone last night on her blog. When said pumice stone was IN THE BASKET WITH MY HAIRBRUSH?????? My hairbrush that is only in there because she was using it because her hair was way long and she actually had to brush it before going to work. My hairbrush that I really don’t like anyone using. MY hairbrush. WAS in the basket. WITH. THE. PUMICE. STONE.
What the…
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