O, toilets! I'm sorry! I don't really hate you! How could I? You sweep my bodily wastes away to some unknown, mysterious place made entirely of poop1.
But here's the thing. Both of the toilets in our house run. (And they're even more annoying than the rest of you runners2.) When the toilets' tanks fill back up after flushing, the water doesn't always stop.
And so you'll flush and then you'll go downstairs not realizing the toilet hasn't stopped running until you go into the dining room3 and hear the water still running upstairs. Then you have to trek back upstairs, take the tank's top off and jiggle the thingymabob inside the tank because just jiggling the handle on the outside won't cut it. I've taken to waiting the 45 or so seconds it takes the tank to fill before I leave the bathroom just to be sure the toilet stops. And then for like days on end it'll behave. And you'll forget it was even a problem.
Until one day you go away for the weekend and then get back and go into the dining room and ... you hear the water. Running all weekend because you didn't check before you left because the FUCKING FASCIST TOILET LULLED YOU INTO THINKING IT WAS OKAY!1! And it thinks this is FUCKING FUNNY, evidently! Ha ha. Real hilarious, toilet.
And it was bad enough when it was just the upstairs toilet, but now the downstairs one, which was always more of a follower, has gotten in on the act and has started running, too. The only saving grace there is that you can hear it right away because it's close to the living room where the TV is and hence, is where we spend roughly 95% percent of our non-pooping time4.
And I can hear you all out there, "Well, why don't you just FIX the fucking toilets, G? You're a man, of sorts. Unless you're lying with all your 'n*ts@ck this' and 'enormous HeisenPenis that' talk, which seems to be all you talk about and GEEZ why don't get a new act already!"
First off, you can kiss my n*ts@ck, Hypothetical Reader, because you're obviously just envious of my Enormous HeisenPenis. And second off, I want to fix them; or, actually, have them fixed or replaced by a professional plumber (it's time to upgrade, anyway), but every time I mention it, Teh 'Bride, inexplicably, objects. She has "plans" for the toilets, but she never quite articulates just what those "plans" are, and so far the "plans" have not gotten past the "planning" stage.
I sometimes think she has some sort of inappropriate relationship with our toilets.
Because after I catch one of them running for hours, I'll be all:
"THAT'S IT! I'm tearing this FUCKING thing OUT of the floor and replacing it myself!"
Teh 'B.: "No you're not! You have no idea how!"
"When has ignorance ever stopped me before?"
"No. I have 'plans' for them!"
"I'M TEARING THEM OUT!1!"
"Shhh! They'll hear you!1!"
At that point I just stop. Because you non-Information Professionals probably don't realize this, but when a librarian plays the Shhhh! card, you take it seriously.
But help may be on the way. Because Teh 'B's "plan" was to "try out" this new handyman a friend of hers recommended; and yesterday, Handyman Steve successfully tore down the remnants of a screened in porch that had been hanging from the back of our house for ... O ... two years? And it seems he passed the test.
Fix my FUCKING TOILETS, handyman Steve!
1 I.e., South Joisey.
2 Hahahahahaha! Just kidding! I love you all, even though, unlike my toilets, most of you don't let me poop on you.
At least not literally.
3 Which is where the pantry closet is; and in there is where the pipes from the upstairs bathroom are, and if you go in the dining room, you can hear the water when the toilet is still running, maybe like an hour later, and you've wasted gallons of water.
Yes, that's right. the upstairs bathroom pipes go right through our pantry. When you think about it, pert-near all Heisenberg meals begin and end in that pantry closet.
4 And about 1% of our pooping time because, hey ... everyone has accidents now and then.