Saturday, July 5, 2008

Toilet Talk

I know, I know... I should be using this blog as if it were a canvas upon which I could paint my inner thoughts. I should be poignant. I should be thoughtful. I should be insightful. I will, I will. But not today. Today I would like to share with you, how completely astounded I am that four senior citizens, sitting around my dining room table, could carry on an in depth conversation FOR 30 MINUTES all revolving around other people's toilets. Yep. Toilets.


Let me start this by saying that I come from a big Italian family. While we aren't the loud and gaudy Soprano type, talking crap (pardon the pun) about other people, both inside the family and out, seems to be part of the package. However, in most cases, it has to do with who is dating whom, who stole from whom, who is wasting all their money on fancy cars, who wore a dress to so-and-so's wedding that made their butt look fat....and so on. For the most part it drives me completely insane. I sometimes look at some of my relatives and see how incredibly angry they get over other people's drama. Then they argue with each other over why they care. Quite frankly, it all gives me a headache most of the time so I have learned to tune it out. But today.....the whole toilet conversation just had me in stitches.

This all began because the seat on one of the toilets in my house needs to be changed. However, it is a European import in
stalled long before I lived here and nobody has one that matches so I have to change out the whole toilet. Ok. Who cares really. So, first, my grandmother has to warn my great uncle, at the table, to be careful when he lifts the seat to go to the bathroom because it is loose. He doesn't hear her because he came without his hearing aids. So she repeats it. Louder. And again. It all goes horribly wrong from here.

Just so you know, mine is too low to the ground. Who lived in this house before me, a French family? But it isn't as low as my aunt's, which is so low that my grandmother has to hold the towel rack just to get up. (Followed by familiar grandmotherly "sheesh.") My cousin's is too high and difficult to dismount, my sister's is too fancy, my mother's is right next to the tub, causing the toilet paper to be too far away. (Another sheesh.) Nobody said anything about my dad's because he and my mom have been divorced 15 years, although, I'm sure if anyone let it go on, it would have been stated that if my mother had a better lawyer, she would have had half of his toilets and a part of any new ones he ever contemplated installing. SHEESH.

My house is now empty. It is so wonderfully quiet I can hear the refrigerator kick on. I am going to now flush, just for fun, and take an advil.

Until next time.....




2 comments:

jdbauer said...

Ahh toilets! This post had a 3 bears ring to it.

I hate the high toilets. I encounter more of those in Scandinavia because of all the tall people. The small ones drive me crazy as I have to spend too much time positioning. And I have no ass. My parents have the little seats, which baffles me.

When my family came to visit us in Copenhagen, my brother had a big sheesh about the distance between the toilet and the door. No leg room. He's 6'3" so that was a problem for him.

My friend Amanda in Copenhagen is also extremely tall and has to position her legs to the side when she shuts the door.

And you know by now how I feel about modern "water saving" toilets. SHEESH!!!

~melissa said...

hahahahahahahahahahahahaha. :)

you made my day with that.