If you were shocked to see a toilet (yes, it’s mine) on the ol’ blog today…hang on to your socks. There is a reason for this post and it has nothing to do with anything gross. This picture might not look like very much to you. It’s just your average bathroom commode. But when I came home from work last night and saw it, I almost swooned and promptly took a picture.
You see…a couple (ok, three) years ago, yours truly was doing some routine plumbing adjustments to the toilet tank when the ceramic tank lid slipped from my hands and broke into 78 pieces on the bathroom floor. This was not my finest moment. For whatever reason, hardware stores don’t sell just the tank lid….you have to buy a whole new toilet. But my toilet was fine and I couldn’t justify spending the money on a new one while the current one worked ok (minus the tank lid).
So I lived without the lid for all this time, mostly having gotten used to it, but also secretly hating the whole bathroom situation. My dad kindly offered to buy me a new toilet for Christmas, but, not wishing to see one under the tree on Dec. 25, I declined his offer.
Sunday afternoon, I had a small crying jag in which I moaned to my beau about all the unfinished projects around my house, including the toilet minus a tank lid which “embarrassed me to the point that I can’t have people over and have taken to compulsive clothes shopping to soothe myself.” {drama, I tell you}
My southern beau, who didn’t realize this was such a tragic issue for me, calmly said he’d be happy to visit a salvage shop where he was sure he could find me a replacement. I didn’t think he’d be able to find one, but lo and behold, one trip to the salvage store, $5 and 1 canister of Lysol disinfectant wipes later, I have a toilet tank lid that could pass for the original. {If you’re wondering why it took us 3 years to figure out this was such an easy fix, I have no answer for you. I, too, am wondering this.}
So yes, I love my toilet. Only in the south would a girl get so worked up over something like a toilet and only a southern beau like mine could save the day with such quiet bravado. If only he’d waited a couple of weeks to present me with the lid…it could have gone down in history as the best/worst Valentine’s Day gift ever.
