Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Introducing the house: ablutions area

I'm not sure where I stand on the whole issue of revealing the bathroom to guests when I'm showing them around. Not wanting to err on the side of too much information, I usually don't. But we have reached the end of our tour of the house and a decision must be made.  Perhaps I should leave it here, with a peek from the kitchen through the bathroom to the laundry door?


Perhaps though there are some of you out there burning to see the bathroom? Maybe the tour would feel unfinished if I didn't? As a curious person - some would actually say deeply nosy - I would like to see the bathroom if I was reading this blog, so I'll assume that you might too.


There will be significant renovation one day when I have the cash. But the bath is deep and good for easing aching post-gardening bones, so it does for now.

I will draw the line at showing you the toilet. Instead I'll tell you a story about what happens when you combine a stinking hot over-40 degree Australian summer's day, an old toilet seat and a diminutive and pre-menstrual redhead armed with a new toilet seat and a large hammer.

You're already wondering about the hammer aren't you? I didn't start out with it, just with a screwdriver and the good intention of replacing the old wooden toilet seat with a new plastic one. One of the reasons that I bought the house was to learn to be more hands-on practical. I reasoned that this was a task that even I could handle.  Looking back, I suspect that this is where my reasoning started to go astray. 

I discovered that the screws attaching the old seat to the toilet had fused with age into the porcelain base.  It was then that I made my second error of reasoning: that tapping a screw from underneath with a hammer may loosen it. This was actually correct. Unfortunately it also loosened off, well, actually smashed off the entire porcelain corner holding the screw.

It was here that things started to go really awry. I blame the heat and hormones. I looked at the one missing corner and decided that if I smashed off the other corner I might still be able to balance the seat on top. So I smashed it off.  Stepping back to admire my handiwork, an urgent question arose: what happens when I flush the toilet?  Flash forward ten minutes and I'm standing in the plumbing supplies shop ordering an emergency toilet replacement.

So I have a new toilet. Which was a good outcome, really.

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