toilet troubles:
earlier today, i walked into our bathroom and noticed something. the toilet didn’t look like it had enough water in it. so i gave it a flush… but the water didn’t go down. instead, it kept rising. and then i panicked (even though ryan always assures me that it won’t overflow. but ryan was not home at the time to offer reassurance). and all i could do was stand there wondering if the water would, in fact, flow over… and i thought about what i would do if this were to happen. the only thing i came up with was grab the nearest towel, but i wouldn’t want to actually use the towel because it was toilet water. i am happy to report overflowing did not occur (also proving my husband was right). but the problem was still not fixed. and i am not an expert with “the jon” because i am a girl. and girls learn how to iron and make french toast while boys learn how to fix things. i did, however, wonder if a plunger would solve the problem. but i did not have a plunger and did not know how to say “plunger” in thai, otherwise i would have asked the people that work in the building for said plunger.
an hour or so later, i found myself in quite the predicament. i had drank too much water and coffee and now had to “go.” ryan still not home (he had a business thing all day), i did not know what to do. there was the sink… but it’s kind of in a bad location and i’d feel strange. i could go in the toilet… but the thought occured to me that if everyone’s toilets were clogged in the building and someone had to come into our bathroom to fix the problem, they would see what i had done in it. and then i’d feel awkward. and then i realized that i had not showered yet… and recalling my days as a child, i remembered that i would sometimes take care of two things while in the shower. 1) cleaning and B) urination. c’mon, you know you did it too.
so. i… peed in the shower.
but i cleaned it really well afterward! and it was an emergency situation! so, stop judging me.
6??:
yesterday on the subway, i found myself in sort of a daze staring at the floor. that’s when i realized i was counting: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… 6? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… 6?? that can’t be right. can it? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… yeah, 6. the lady sitting diagonally left of me had 6… toes. but only on her left foot. i then wondered how long i had been sitting there counting toes and, ever so “naturally”, averted my attention elsewhere. … but i had to go back and count again, just to be sure. and there was still six. and she had painted her toenails blue. the more i thought about it, the more i was proud of ms. extra toe. not only had she taken the time to use extra nail polish on that toenail, but she also was not afraid to wear flip-flops. if i had six toes, i think i might be too self-conscience to expose it. and while i felt extremely proud of her, i wondered if it was hard for her growing up… which gave me a wake up call. i mean, think of the nursery rhyme about the little piggies, in which there are only 5 characters. i think that’s showing favoritism. what about the children born with an extra digit, huh? what about them? so i’ve taken it upon myself to write a new verse to the five (OR SIX) little piggies:
the first little piggy went to market. the second little piggy stayed home. the third little piggy had roast beef. the fourth little piggy had none. the fifth little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home. …and the SIXTH little piggy was the most special of all, for he had chocolate cake, and his brothers had none. and instead of going home, he went and bought a comb, and hopped on the 7 o’ clock train leaving for rome.
i don’t know about you, but if i had to choose which piggy to be, i’d be the sixth.
have a happy sunday! and don’t judge people even if they pee in the shower or have an extra digit.
