Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Run For Your Lives!

**Warning Bathroom Humor**

Why is that, when you tell someone not to look, they always look? Like, the other day, when Melissa and I were out having coffee together at a cafĂ©. She said, “Gretchin, don’t look, but I would totally marry that guy if he didn’t have a wedding ring on.”

What did I do? I stretched my neck and leaned over to scratch my back in order to sneak a peek, as Melissa cringed and looked in the other direction.

Normal human behavior, right? Ok, but when someone tells you not to look in a toilet… you listen.

This morning was my fourth straight day without a shower. It was fine yesterday. My hair looked “1950s swoopy” but not quite "icky greasy." It was a Monday and a holiday, even though I had to go into work, so I thought my presence was acceptable in a “she didn’t try too hard today” kind of way.

But, Day 4 is my absolute limit for not showering (it used to be Day 2, before I had a toddler). So, you can imagine how happy I was when I woke up this morning and found out that our water was shut off – the well had run dry.

Also, let’s just say (hypothetically) (okay, not really hypothetically) that we had all thoroughly used the toilet before realizing that it did not have enough water to perform a proper flush. In fact, some of us had not only used the toilet but had downright abused it. I won’t mention names, but I’m sure that you can figure out by process of elimination (and the fact that E is not yet potty trained) (and that I am too much of a lady to ever really abuse anything the way this toilet had been abused) who the culprit was.

Okay, full disclosure, guys... it was me, though I partially blame the Hot Pepper Jelly and Cream Cheese Dip I made before bed last night. I closed the lid discreetly and awaited our water.

It was not long before we heard the familiar knock of the landlord’s fist pounding on our door.

“You guys got water?”
“Uh, no,” Mark said, as he answered the door.
“Ok, I just gotta check your toilet quick.”
I chimed in, “Um, uh… well, we have all used the toilet this morning.” I gave a sideways glance toward E, though what this man was about to witness had most clearly not come from a toddler.

The landlord wasn’t listening nor picking up on my signals. I silently screamed to him, my eyes bulging, “Do NOT go in there. Everyone, run for your lives!! Women and children first!! Save yourselves!!”

He proceeded with a, “I just want to check for some silt in the bottom of the bowl.”
“Listen,” I said as calmly as I could, “We have all used the toilet this morning.” Why does he not understand??

He disappeared into the bathroom with a nonchalant, “No problem.”

I heard the lid open and then his surprised voice, “Oh.”
I tried to interject an explanation, “Yes, well, you see…”
He continued, “I guess I can’t check it…”
And me, “No, well… I, um…” I looked down at E for help. I was changing her diaper.

He promptly escorted himself out the door before I could come up with some type of better explanation, though I think I finally admitted to myself that there was no better explanation.

I turned on Mark, “How could you let him??” I gently, pleadingly pounded my fists against his chest. “Why, God? Why??”

Mark let out a sigh of defeat, hugged me, and said, “Listen, it’s all over now. Just let it go. Let it go…”

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