A beautiful pillar of gleaming white porcelain rises up from the faded linoleum. Its smooth, sleek base is capped by the gentle curve of the bowl. It becons to me, calling out “use me and I will flush for you!” It’s been so long since I heard that call! How many years have I looked askance at the rusty, cruddy stump that was my previous toilet, only to hear it’s taunt, “go ahead, give it a try–you know it may take a week to flush!” It sat there smirking at me. Bastard! How smug do you feel out at the curb now? Who’s smirking now, bad boy?
But no more! Receiving the okay from the building manager to call a plumber (a real, honest-to-god plumber, not the pathetic ass-crack building manager that tries to pass for a plumber), I got on the phone and he came right over! I couldn’t believe it! No promises of being there next week then never showing–he actually came right over.
And now I sit, feeling the smooth, unblemished plastic cradle me gently. And when my ablutions are complete, I press the gleaming silver handle and hear the soft sound of the calming waves, assuring me that everything will be fine now because I have a new toilet.