Love, Jimmie

What an ordeal.  Have mercy.  The drama is really over.  I’ve waited a whole week before telling you, just to make sure. 

Before I tell you how that stupid ceramic bowl was finally repaired, I have some other stories.  About two years ago, Daddy-O and JiJi came for a visit.  While they were here, the handle on the potty broke so Daddy-O, being handy with the tools and the plumbing, trotted out to Lowe’s and purchased a new handle for me.  Upon taking the potty apart, he discovered that the old handle was merely loose, so he fixed that and gave the new handle to me for return to Lowe’s.  Being the good, obedient daughter that I am, I stuck that handle in the backseat of my car and drove it around for two solid years.  All my friends and my nieces, every time they got into my car, would ask, “Why do you have a toilet handle back here?”  Yet I never felt compelled to take it back.

Also, after I posted that last potty post in which I lost my mind with bad words, I received three phone calls from three very handsome men who tried to tell me how to fix it. 

Zorro called first.  He’s a friend from Alabama who would have come over the very first day to fix it had we lived close enough.  He instructed me to sit backwards on the potty, lid down of course, and take off the back so I could tell him what was going on.  Our conversation went something like this:

Zorro:  “Okay, look at the flusher and tell me what it does when you push the handle down.”

Jimmie:  “What’s the flusher?”

Zorro:  “It’s the mumblemumblemuble in the back.”

Jimmie:  “I go by color.  What color is it?”

Zorro: “Well it could be either white or black. It does mumblemumblemumble.”

Jimmie:  “Right.”

So we got a lot accomplished.

Then Javier called and the conversation went much the same way.  I’m so fun.

Then Daddy-O called, after consulting a real live plumber for help, but since our conversation tanked (haha, I did that on purpose!) due to my lack of knowledge of working toilet parts, we all decided that I probably just needed a new toilet.  Awesome. 

THEN! In one final hurrah, Freddie and her father (both engineers, btw) came to my house last week to fix that blasted thing.  Initially Freddie and I had conversations similar to the one above, and Freddie, who really gets me, said she would just bring her dad over to see what was going on.  It helped that I promised margaritas. 

I won’t drone on about how we fixed it but I will tell you that even the engineers were stumped, at least for a minute.  We did have to take it apart twice and there was much holding of tanks and much screwing in of bolts.  Mostly I stood around and looked pretty but I was there, offering support and reminding them of the single margaritas that I purchased for each of them.

Halfway through the evening, after we thought it was fixed only to be denied as we watched the water, once again, drain completely out of the tank in just a matter of minutes, Freddie’s dad said, “I really wish we had bought a new handle when we bought all the other parts. That would really help.”

I said, “I have one in my car.  I’ll go get it.”

I trotted out to my car and came back in brandishing my (nearly) brand new toilet handle.   Both Freddie and her dad looked at me, eyes huge, like anime characters.  “What? Why?  Jimmie?”

“Viola!” I said. 

Do you know how funny that is?  That I, Queen of all Things Sparkly, had a toilet handle in the back of my car?  I amuse myself.  Never underestimate me, people.  I will always pull through.  When will you learn?

In one final toilet comment, last week I had to purchase toilet paper for the first time in six months.  Between Phranke and my anonymous toilet paper donator (Jonquil!), I haven’t had to buy any in that long.  I have the best friends!

Also, who do you know that blogs about their potty as much as I do?  I should win an award.

P.S. So that no one gets mad at the handy man who fixed it last time, please know that he gave me some money back because it didn’t work.  Aces, man.  That was awesome.