As twitterers will know, the only thing that I really wanted after 8 days of no running water was:
A shitter. Well, a functioning shitter.
Ask me after working all day with 3 male family members if I have a shitter. Ask.
We knew that putting the jigsaw puzzle of my flat back together after me moving out all my belongings, myself & the previously-mentioned Clansmen ripping out flooring, appliances, plumbing and cabinets (everything) and finally the contractors jackhammering out the subfloor & part of the walls (to lay New and Improved Flood-proofing, plus 2 new sump pumps and a battery backup) was going to be a harder job and take longer. We expected things to be broken. Things were.
You know this after ‘home improvements’ of the past.
But I asked specifically for a toilet.
What I got was flooring:
I also have cabinets cos that’s way the more important, apparently.
The fridge is where it’s supposed to be but the broken-off balancers mean it’ll be shims and ‘it’ll’ cos that was ridiculously low on the priority list.
The stove was also totally and hilariously wobbly–forget ‘balance.’
I unwobbled it but couldn’t be arsed at this point of fatigue to walk to the shop to grab a level that I’d already put away.
In attempting the fridge (again, screw balance, just make it non-dangerous), I put my hand under the 40 year old, rusty behemoth and sharply withdrew, watching blood ooze down my index finger. * This is in addition to the twisted right ankle, pulled left hamstring and right (the old torn rotator cuff) shoulder tweaking. All of those came from moving the fridge when the youngest man was crapping out. He was kind of looking ‘lost.’ He should prolly mix some water in between the 80 oz of Mountain Dew he knocked back in 5 hours (not to mention the 12 Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies. Sugar coma?
I also made him a turkey sandwich with tomatoes from the garden and yes, I washed them. -twitterers will understand as I’ve been making mention of using the garden as my toilet these 8 days–this will continue at least through Thursday
At least my floor’s in.
* Bonus: when my GP asked this year when was my last tetanus booster, I replied, ‘Less than 10 years, more than 3.’ She opted to boost me (with a whooping cough booster, too).
Ain’t I proud for that tetanus vaccination now?!?