One of Those Days!

My friend Melissa's dad died earlier this week. His funeral was in her home town of Williamston this afternoon. Williamston is about 2 hours from Raleigh and about 30 minutes from our river house in Blount's Creek. Since we haven't been to Blounts Creek since September, I thought I would make a circuitous trip.

One of our neighbor's at Blounts Creek got a new statue. Ronald's Ronald!

I left home at 8:45, wasted time stopping by the library that didn't open until 10:00 on Fridays, grabbed a biscuit from BoJangles and hit the highway. At 11:00, I rolled up to the double-wide at Blounts Creek. Since I wouldn't be staying long, I didn't turn on the power. I walked through and saw a spot on the kitchen ceiling where we have had trouble with a leak. It was back. Water had been standing on the counter. Some had dripped into a trashcan under the counter and was frozen. Yep, it has definitely been cold!

Kitchen Ceiling leaks again!

Well, you know I have to pee everywhere I stop (not unlike Riley Dog, I have to leave my calling card!) In the dark, I sat upon a very cold toilet and drained off the Diet Coke. I called Tony to report the leak in the kitchen. He asked about the pipes. I hadn't seen any water in unusual places. He told me to grab the flashlight and make sure. When I walked into the larger bathroom, I noticed a puddle on the floor. Upon further inspection, I realized there was ice in the toilet. Not just floaters, but solid chunks! The tank was at least 5 gallons of solid ice. I went back to the frigid toilet I had used. It too was frozen. Now, just what would I have done if my ass had stuck to the toilet like that boys tongue stuck to the light pole in The Christmas Story? Sometimes, you just don't know how lucky you are.

Frozen and cracked!

Next stop...Tony sent me to the back of the trailer to turn the water on. I crawled underneath (thank heavens I can stand up under there), flipped the switch, listened as the pipes filled with water, then watched as water began shooting out the cracks in the frozen pipes. "Turn it off! Turn it off!" was Tony's response. I did. I hate to say that I was glad I had a funeral to go to, but was relieved I could do nothing to make the messes go away.

I ran back inside the trailer long enough to change from sweats to funeral clothes. And would you believe, the beach air shrank my black pants! Sometimes you just have to make do with what you got. Hence, I wore my black pants and did NOT tuck in my white shirt. Add a sweater and hope the layers cover up the the bulging pants.

NO PHOTOS OF MY BIG ASS!

Back in the car, I headed to Williamston. I stopped at Wendy's for a cheeseburger and left my calling card in their bathroom. While washing my hands, my phone rang. My friend Jane was calling. She was already at the funeral home. I walked out of the bathroom, but thought I was missing something I had taken in. I told Jane to hold on while I went back to the bathroom to look for my phone. Not until the door closed behind me did I clue in. I announced to Jane that I am such a dumb-ass! At that point, she realized the phone I was looking for was between my shoulder and my ear and I was talking to her on it! DUH!

Really cool car in the Wendy's parking lot waiting to take me to the asylum!

At the funeral home, I found Jane and a few girls from the Piedmont neck of the woods. We sat together during the service. The ancient minister got off to a slow start. Apparently, he did not know the deceased very well since he kept referring to Angus as Anglius. I could not look at Jane and struggled to maintain control of my face throughout the service.

Back to the car and another 2 hours on the road and I made it home before dark. Look who was waiting for me!

Cora welcomes me home!

Talking Dirty!

Warning: This article is going to contain personal information you may not want to know about our family. If you are about to eat dinner, easily grossed out, or not into bathroom humor, skip this article!

When I was a little girl (we are talking the 70's), we lived in 5 different old houses. We did lots of remodeling, but never had to repair a toilet. There was never a plumbing issue. We owned a small plunger that came out from under the cabinet about once a year, usually after a small child used a whole roll of toilet paper to wipe his behind. After about three pushes on the plunger, the toilet paper went on down the pipe and the dry rotted plunger turned itself inside out, requiring you to be creative to get it to fix itself without having to touch it with your hand!

Fast forward to 1999.

When we were building our house, we visited one of the local stores that sells bathroom fixtures. We weren't sure what toilet options we had. The lady that was helping us asked if we wanted a deep bowl. She went on to explain that some men come in with measurements because their junk touches the water when they sit on shallower toilets. My husband made that decision real quick...we wanted a deep toilet bowl. I was fascinated by that insight.

Unfortunately, that was the most interesting thing I heard. From there, she went on with details that sounded like "blah, blah, water conservation, blah, blah, new laws, blah, blah..." Now, I wish I had paid better attention.

Fast forward again to 2009.

We have been in our house for 10 years. Four of us live here. We have a well and septic tank.

Now for the personal details. No one in my family is a "dainty dumper." Remember the jokes about the ant on a log in the pond and it starts to rain on him? Our logs fill the pond!

Every time someone spends more than three minutes in the bathroom, we know the plunger will be needed. No more cheap plungers shoved under the sink for us. The plunger is white and has it's own house. Since young boys are not the neatest when it comes to plunging, the job often falls to me. Do they tell me they need help in this area? NOOOOO! They leave it for me to stumble upon. Usually, I am running for the bathroom with my buttons and zippers already undone and my bladder overflowing. Time to plunge has not been allocated! I have to by-pass the closest potty, trying not to trip over my pants, to the back bathroom to relieve myself of a couple of diet cokes before returning to the front bathroom to plunge the heck out of it!

Today, our plunger is used at least 5 times a week. We leave the plunger beside the toilet in the half bathroom. The last thing I want is for a visitor to take a dump and not be able to make it go away. I would be mortified at someone else's house if I had to ask for a plunger to make my business go away!

Even the pottys in public places suck (not litterally). The automatic flush toilet requires 3 or 4 additional pushes of the button just to make toilet paper go down the drain. It's one thing to pee twice on top of your own liquids, but peeing on top of somebody else's stuff with the possibility of back-splash is just too gross!

How are todays toilets better than the toilets I had as a kid? I know I am not conserving water because I have to flush at least 3 times, whether or not I plunge. The lingering surprises in the potty are not sanitary! I just want to mash the button and watch the logs disappear. I want govenment to keep their laws out of my bathroom! I want my old toilet from the 70's that guzzles water back. Wonder if I can get an old one from Habitat? Hmmm.

If I have grossed you out, I refuse to apologize. You were warned.