Of men and toilets

Men. Seriously.

If a woman had been in charge of this project, this would never have happened.


It would never have happened, because the woman would have had the foresight to cover the toilet with an old blanket, or something. Because otherwise, the woman is the one who has to clean the mess up.

And.

When the men cut the first section of cast iron pipe loose, it fell.

The last time they did a project like this, the cut edge of the pipe hit my husband in the lip, causing his mother and me to insist he go into the clinic. As you know, a gash in your face embedded with sewer yuck is always an awesome thing. Being a man, and invincible, of course he thought we were nuts. And so we are, but that's beside the point.

Had it not been for the tetanus shot they gave him, we women would have been in big trouble. Right.

The women were right, did you catch that?

Back to my story...

Down tumbled the sewer pipe. Again. Yes, this is the third home in which we have done this same project. It's getting just a bit tiresome.

I heard my father-in-law, as he peeked through a hole in the floor where the original toilet was recently anchored, ask my husband if he was OK.

Don't you just love when that happens?

"Yeah, but the toilet broke."

Oh crap.

That would be the new one. The one we installed just so we would have a toilet while this project was underway. The one I wrote about here.

Overnight we got a few new inches of snow on the ground, more coming down now, and the wind is going to pick up which means we will be stormed in, way out here on the frozen prairie.


And my husband just said the new toilet is broken.

NO WAY!


I am so grateful it was only the lid, maybe we can glue it, or something.

"I need to go poop!" my bigger boy said.

"Get your boots on and go downstairs."

"I need to go potty!" my littler boy said, grabbing himself.

"Get your boots on and go downstairs with your brother."

Then a chorus of, "But I want to use the real potty chair... what if it's too cold... I need socks..."

I sent them downstairs to their dad, since he is in charge. I have no idea if they even used the toilet, but it became clear within a few minutes that they were not coming back up. They were helping, and being schooled in the proper man ways of doing a project of this magnitude.

I have to pee too, but I'm going to hold it. Remember, that is not a bathroom down there, just a toilet in the middle of a work zone including two grown men and two miniature men-in-training.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can hold it.

I took advantage of the boys being out of the way, and got the little bean down for her nap. Perfect, now I can write, right?

She's having a party in her bed. She sounds like she's having a grand old time, so I think I'll just leave her there.

And guess what? My husband, bless his heart (as some important women in his life would have said), actually did clean the toilet. Some. At least he tried.

Honestly, I'm so grateful that he can fix things around here. He can fix anything.

It's why I married him, you know.