More Than a Metaphor

Alf and I had two major leaks today. One from a toilet, the other from the washer in the garage. I’m grateful they didn’t happen on Christmas day. It would have meant our guests using our neighbor’s bathroom. And they weren’t home.

It could be an omen for 2019.

Leaks. What do they represent? Not being in control, for one thing. All you can do is scream, grab towels and mop-up.

Then go to the store and buy a new toilet. cows

Another, the mechanism in the tank needs replacing. Could that mean we’ll need colonoscopies to check our plumbing?

A diversionary tactic is to buy a new toilet.

A third possibility, someone is leaking secret information about me and Calvin on our walks. Who would do such a thing? Those times are sacred.

Definitely buy a new toilet, preferably the kind that flushes itself.

So we went to the store. Who knew there were so many toilets to choose from? The selection was tush-numbing. We had to think about height, bowl shape, color, style, and flushing and water-saving technology. Really?

I have only one specification. I need a comfort-high toilet. I’m tired of sitting cross-legged at floor level.

Calvin says, “You need to practice using bushes outside the house. They like the extra watering, they don’t leak, and the leaves tickle your tush.”  beagle

 

 

 

 

Street Art

Yesterday afternoon as I walking to the subway station I stopped abruptly in front of a display of toilets.

Yep, toilets.

Only in San Francisco.

And they weren’t the ordinary white porcelain variety either, although even those would have caught my attention, lined up in a neat row on the red brick street.

An art display or what? I thought.

“May I photograph them?” I asked the curator of this odd display. He was jeans and a T-shirt guy.

“Sure,” he said.

I took my pictures. “What’s your statement with these?” I asked when I was done.  photo (4)photo (5)

“This is my way of bringing awareness to the need for more public toilets in San Francisco,” he said.

Come to the think of it, he had a point.

You’re hard pressed to find a bathroom in the city if you’re desperate. Your only alternatives are to duck into a restaurant, coffee shop or hotel lobby.

If you can hold it, always shoot for an upscale department store. Their bathrooms are always a pleasure with clean stalls, piped in music, and perfumed soap. Granted, you might have to purchase that $100 dollar frilly camisole on the way out, but it’s worth it.

Calvin says, “I don’t have these issues. Any ol’ tree will do me, and the smellier the better.” beagle