Today I became a germophobe.
I began an endeavor I don't plan on repeating in the near future.
I attempted to replace the wax seal under the toilet. You know, the one that ensures no leakage. The one you don't even think about as you sit on the throne, doing your business. The one that should never ever ever ever need to be replaced. But alas, the brokenness of the world ensures that it will indeed break, and some poor soul will have to replace it.
Before I continue, I would like to send up a prayer that you NEVER have to go through the nasty process that is anything to do with plumbing and sewage systems.
I'm flushed with excitement to get this blog started! Time's a wasteing, so water we waiting for?
So, we began the dastardly deed by draining the toilet. I reached down to turn the water off and flushed the toilet. Most of the water drained out of the tank. But as I leaned over to check the progress it was soon evident that not all of the water would drain. Sigh. And so the nastiness began. I got out two sponges. And yes. You can see what's coming next. I hand sponged the rest of the water out of the tank. That's right. I physically plunged my hand into the murky water to empty it of the remaining water. I thought the worst was over. HA. Oh, how naive. I lifted the lid of the toilet. My father leaned over, handed me the sponge and said, "Got for it." Sigh. So, I went for it. I had to sponge the water out by hand. The thing that got me through? Kittens and puppies. They're all so cute. Kittens! My goodness, litters of kittens are SO cute! But alas, having your hands in water where poop has been? It'll tear down even the most disgusting human being on an episode of Fear Factor. It is nasty. So I then proceeded to get out this weird metal lamp thing that got hot in about .234 seconds. It shone brightly as I began to unscrew the two bolts that hold the toilet to the ground. Then lo and behold, one of the screws doesn't unscrew. Did you hear? It didn't unscrew! Therefore, I am reduced to cutting the bolt.
Crap.
I have to cut the bolt.
So I put the project away for Easter weekend and I will attack it again on Monday.
That does it! All bets are now off.
The next time I finish and fix the toilet, I will indeed reach into my back pocket and pull out a bird-flu mask. You know, the kind that only allow the sun to reach my eyes! Now hear me out, I didn't always used to be the person who kept a bird-flu mask in their back pocket. No no! Indeed I used to ignore the vestiges of illness and even on occasion was the type who might extend an acknowledgement of blessing should someone sneeze in my company! But never again I tell you! A toilet, when the lid is left open during a flush can discharge as many germs into the air as a full-on open-mouthed cough by a snotty-nosed-five-year-old directed in your face! The foul lung discharge when not accompanied by a preventative barrier can be as repulsive as the toxicity of a freaking land fill! You might as well be standing next to Typhoid Mary in an elevator! Do be terrified. It is their germ mission to land on and find any means of entering your body.
I've almost completely ruled hand-shaking out of the question. I will say, "Nice to meet you!" And I might even blow them a kiss for good measure! And public doors!? Are you kidding me!? Handrails? Escalators? We're pretty much talking about a conveyor belt of pestilence and filth! It's pretty much a buffet of maladies that would rival any petri dish in any scientists lab! You're pretty much toying with unleashing the apocalypse if you touch one of those things!
I'm considering investing in a haz mat suit.
