Sometimes you read something and it beggars belief anyone has to be told such a thing, case in point.
This week I treat myself to a new pooper scooper for cat litter tray duties (the glamour of my life surprises myself at times).
On the attached label it read 'Not suitable for dishwasher'
Who the hell puts a shite scooper in a dishwasher? The dirty, filthy bastardos!
I tend to steer away from politics on my blog but something dreadful happened this week.
My toilet seat went all socialist on me. It started leaning to the left and would not compromise. I want a David Cameron of a toilet seat, nice and centralist but can cope when you lean to the right where the toilet paper is (I was tempted to write ‘for the big jobs’, aren’t you glad I didn’t?).
A trip to B&Q was in order, any excuse. I love DIY stores. I sniff the fresh timber in a faintly unnatural manner. I run my fingers lovingly down the work surfaces of show kitchens. I’m the annoying bugger who tries all the door bells.
One natural pine toilet seat was purchased and we were homeward bound.
The leftie seat was not for budging. The screws were rusted and force was required but eventually it was discarded. It was like a bathroom remake of the Miner’s Strike. Put the new seat on and it looked rubbish. It sat too far back so the toilet bowl sat proud. And then I made a startling discovering, my toilet bowl is not beautiful. Oh it’s clean, but not beautiful.
The toilet bowl is not symmetrical and it has been proved that beauty is in symmetry as frequently proved by the Daily Mail when they chop photos of celebs in half and create how they would look if the sides of their faces were mirror imaged. Christy Turlington, Grace Kelly look almost identical to their real selves whilst Camilla, Duchess of Cornwall looks like a Cornish Pasty with a wig on.
I have done this picture test on myself. With ‘all left’ I look like an evil prison warden from Prisoner Cell Block H. ‘All right’ and I look like a cheerleader let loose in a pie factory. Decide amongst yourself which one you’d least like to meet in a dark alley.
Back to new toilet seat…We tried to alter the screws on the mounting but could not get them to budge. Eventually it beat us. The new seat was packaged up, ready to go back the next day and for the evening we were left with a bare bowl.
It is amazing how a toilet with no seat changes the acoustics of the bathroom (cue half an hour of hairbrush diva singing). It also brings the ‘women peeing out’ experience direct to your home, thighs of steel as you hover over the bowl having masterfully lifted the toilet seat by telekinesis. Which reminds me of a past discovery on a skiing holiday. Ski boots naturally support you legs forward and it’s easy to keep yourself lifted off the seat. I’m not suggesting we don ski boots when faced with the terror of the alien loo but it gives you an insight into things I deem important to remember and convey. Not that I needed to do the hover bit in our own bathroom but let me tell you this: bare bowl + bare bum = bloody cold experience.
Day Two of toilet seat adventures and we were back in B&Q, over emphasising that we weren’t feeble women but the screws would not budge so we couldn’t make the necessary adjustments. Cue storeworker #1 with a screwdriver (and BO). He couldn’t move the screw either (oddly satisfying). Cue storeworker #2 (also with BO but not quite to the vintage of storeworker #1). He couldn’t move it. It was becoming like the Sword in the Stone. Who could move the screw and claim their right to throne. A power screwdriver arrived, still no movement. Toilet seat 1 Humans 0.
We went to get an exchange but of course they didn’t have the same, or even similar, seat in stock. A refund was issued and the saga moved on to Homebase, with a detour via Dunelms where the entertainment in the long queue for the tills was ‘guess who is letting off the silent but deadly farts’.
At Homebase I went to get a trolley, which requires a pound coin, only to see that in one of the shackled trolleys further up the line were two multi packs of quavers and a cauliflower. The mind boggles at the abandoning of such fine food.
A toilet seat was chosen, I treated myself to a box of scented candles after the day’s assualt on my nasal passages and returned home.
The new toilet is perfect, covers all the areas it should and gives great support when you most need it – live up to that politicians.
Tech Tags: toilets, toilet+seat, David+Cameron, politics, politicians, B&Q, Homebase, Dunelms, bathrooms,Cat piss, a telephone connection, vodka and a cotton wool bud....you just know that adds up to an afternoon of fun.
I got back in the gym this morning after an almost three week lay off with stomach problems and pounding migraines. Ooh what fun it was to describe that to Dan my trainer whilst attempting to retain any level of dignity. And, as the day wore on I stayed at the bottom end of business.
Even though Dan was very kind to me today, I still came home with a mild headache, which seems to happen when I exercise after a lay off. So my mood was just teetering on the brink of humour by-pass when I was faced with the telephone joining me in less than perfect working order.
The phone would ring just once and then cut itself off. A line test showed it wasn't the line into the house. The problem was within my own walls.
The next part of this aromatic tale is somewhat embarrassing. All the cats are very well behaved and clean. I am extremely proud that ours is a house that would bring a smile to the face of Kim and Aggie. The vacuum cleaner is always in overdrive in this house, the duster is rarely idle and good friends are forced to come round to do the independent sniff test. I may be a cat lady, I don't want to smell like a cat lady.
But one cat has got a little stressed lately, after the arrival of a stray tomcat in the area, and this led him to be very naughty and spray the telephone connection box at the bottom of the stairs. This was a code red situation - the SAS of cleaning fluids was dispatched.
However, some spray had infiltrated the connection box and so I have spent the afternoon on my hands and needs, surrounded my screwdrivers and paper towels. Cotton wool buds were dipped in vodka and every nook and cranny was de-pissed with precision.
The phone now rings like church bells, that's vodka for you.
My thanks for all the suggestions for more verses for all occasions - may my creative juices flow as freely as my cat's urine.
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