Me: Well, I was looking at this ad for a waterless toilet, and I was thinking about how much money we’d save on the water bill, and then it mentioned “compost” as a benefit.
Michael: Uh, what did you think a waterless toilet would do?
Me: I don’t know, I guess I thought it was… magic? I thought tiny fairies just spirited the poo away, or something.
Michael: I can just imagine being outside when all of a sudden, fshwee! “Oh, Sara just went to the bathroom again.”
Me: What, like it would spray outside? I could see that. A hose sticking out the side of the house and every time you flush… fwoosh! It sprays the yard.
Michael: You mean, like the house has explosive diarrhea?
Me: But with fairies. Yes.
Update: All this toilet talk came about because our toilet has been loose in its setting and leaking water everywhere for a couple of weeks. My landlord was here all day installing entirely new flooring, and we’ll have the toilet reset tomorrow. In other awesome news, my landlord also spoke to the asshole neighbors and let them know quite clearly that the noise and violence is unacceptable. Despite our communication issues, I still have to publicly praise him for being the first landlord I’ve ever had who takes care of business.
The whole toilet escapade has given me a new appreciation for just how crazy someone has to be to decide to do a home remodel. I don’t know why I’m so enthusiastic about home repairs, but if this didn’t dampen my excitement, I don’t think anything will. Sometime this week I’m going to hang up this fabulously tacky gold hanging globe lamp that a friend gave me, and then I’ll take it from there — this apartment would be okay if I’d get off my ass once in a while. Now I’m off to pee in the bathtub and marvel at the new bathroom floor.
(As an aside — publicly? Publically? Both of my dictionaries tell me that either spelling is acceptable, but they both look off to me. Which do you use?)