Toilet Bowl Blues

I’ve been analyzing toilets lately.

Sounds weird, I know.

Walmart has quick, super-zap flushers.

Borders have semi-quick, shred-the-paper flushers.

Books-A-Million [BAM] has the best, so far.

Our master bathroom toilet had a fitting

replaced by Steve The Plumber months ago.

Since then, the fill up is noisy and takes

longer than it takes to launch the Space Shuttle.

I hate the obvious--just give me a

discrete, quiet toilet. I bet the TV Caveman

could’ve fixed it--he’s a sensitive type,

instead of Steve, who reminded me of a mob boss.

I never liked the faucet he replaced in

the kitchen: A single, nondescript Delta--

no zip, doesn’t extend long enough.

Dishes are always banging the side of the sink.

I like a little style with function, after all.

So, back to the ambiance of the toilet.

I’m putting my request in for a pot

with a dynamic personality.

Dark eyes, dark hair--

My mind wanders…heh-heh.

Plumb It All!

When you have a home you hope that nothing
too major goes wrong--especially if you or your mate
is a bit dysfunctional when it comes to fixing things.
Suddenly, you’ve established a close bond with Home
Depot or Lowe’s home improvement stores.

What can go wrong when you have the experts in your corner?
In the master shower there are 7 tiles which are cracking
horizontally--one dang tile after another.

The toilet float valve in the master bath has gone bad.
We head out to get it replaced.
"Yes, sir, " Ken and Steve in the plumbing department of H. D.
say to Tom. "It’s the correct replacement, sir."

Just taking the new valve from the plastic casing
requires a degree from MIT.
We tug, pull, attempt to separate, break some nails,
curse, cut our fingertips, when finally, one corner
has popped open.
It’s a struggle to separate, then voila!
We have the valve in hand.
Disassembling the original valve is easy, but lo--
the new one doesn’t fit.

Wrong unit, so back to H D we go.
Ken and Steve have ducked out on a break,
so we find a very weathered old man working in the
department, who resembles an entombed mummy.
Sam gives us the right unit.
"Are you sure, Sam" I ask?
"Oh, yes," Sam replies with a wink.

Well, again we struggle with the fused plastic casing,
and after a few heated minutes and snarling,
we’re back in the toilet.
Yes! By Sam Hill, it fits!
Minutes later, we notice a constant drip, drip, drip
coming from the nut.

Tom tightens the nut and by now we’re going nuts,
because nothing is stopping the leak.
Two hours later, we give in and call a handyman
whom we’ve used before.
Another Steve, not a Ken.

$135 bucks later, Mr. Fix-It has finished the job,
and has left.
That night we see evidence of leaking once again.
The toilet has it in for us…