Tag: toilet

The Type of Luxury Even I Can Get Behind

I can’t get used to luxury. Or maybe I can.

I have been struggling with how to approach this subject. Truly I have. And my apologies in advance to the more fragile readers out there. But my life has been raised to such a high level of satisfaction of late that I just had to share it with you, dear reader.

I don’t know why luxury makes me so uncomfortable. Perhaps it’s because I’ve never had the opportunity to get used to it. It feels like something out of my reach that I don’t deserve. I’ve never been to a spa. I’ve never had a manicure or a pedicure. I just recently had my first professional massage, and I loved it, but I haven’t had one since. (Thanks, COVID.)

What I’m about to tell you has never even been on my radar. I’ll just put it right out there: I bought a bidet. Specifically, a Luxury Class USPA 6800 Bidet Seat for my already existing toilet. I was able to justify this purchase in my mind because using less toilet paper is good for the environment, and also I got a screamin’ deal at Costco, which never hurts. I’m telling you, it has changed my world.

All things toilet seem to be taboo, so I never thought I’d say this out loud, but I have never used a bidet before this. Therefore I had no clue what I was missing. I didn’t realize how deprived I have always been.

The toilet is an excellent place to think, and here lately I’m thinking that I must be experiencing what every human who has been present for a bathroom improvement must have experienced. It’s like unspoken heaven.

Imagine what it must have been like to go from squatting in the woods to using an outhouse. Imagine tearing down your outhouse because now you have indoor plumbing and don’t have to venture out in the snow to do your business. You get the idea.

But this bidet is like experiencing interstellar travel for the first time after having trundled around in a broken down jalopy for your entire life. This bidet does everything but digest your food for you.

I mean, it has a night light. A pretty blue night light. It has a heated seat. It has a dual nozzle system for front and back. The water is temperature adjustable, and it oscillates. I mean, who is expecting oscillation? I certainly was not. It still makes me giggle.

It has a remote control. A fan. It self-cleans. And it comes with a warranty, for cryin’ out loud!

And speaking of clean, I have never felt so clean in my entire life. Clean as a whistle. Squeaky clean. So clean, in fact, that now when I use a primitive public toilet, I can’t wait to get back home to my own.

And most of the time I remember that TP is no longer required at home. But sometimes I forget. There’s a lot that one does in the bathroom without thinking, it seems.

So yeah, there you have it. I got a bidet. Blush. Life is good.

Uspa+Toilet+Elongated+Bidet+Seat

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Feng Shui Lite

Recently, a friend pointed out to me that, according to the feng shui bagua, my “marriage, relationships, and partnerships” region is located in my guest room. My guest room isn’t particularly welcoming. It has become the dumping ground for all the stuff I have yet to unpack. It kind of looks like the front yard in Sanford and Son, if I’m honest. This can’t be good. That is, if you go for all that feng shui stuff.

I do and I don’t. I’m not a feng shui extremist. I don’t believe, for example, that if I leave my toilet lid up and my bathroom door open, then I’ll lose all my money and energy. But I know, based on experience, that some spaces feel comfortable and welcoming, and some set me on edge.

I also agree, in theory if not in practice, that clutter is a bad thing. Neat and orderly rooms allow one to relax and breathe. They’re also a lot easier to keep clean and dust-free, and makes it actually possible to find stuff. That can only positively impact you.

Feng shui also teaches you to focus on your goals in life. It has you examine your existence in minute detail, and encourages you to make changes therein. I’m all for that.

So, if I organize my guestroom, do I believe that I’ll find love again? Not directly. I don’t believe in magical thinking. But while I’m doing all that organizing (if I ever do), somewhere in the back of my head I’ll be thinking about improving my love life, and setting that intention may cause me to make changes in the way I present myself to the world. Who knows what might happen as a result. At the very least, I’d have an uncluttered room.

Feng_Shui_Bagua

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Are You FREAKING Kidding Me?

Let’s just say, (hypothetically) that I received an e-mail from someone who isn’t even in my chain of command, and it said, (hypothetically), “Please allow yourself to do cleaning duties toward the end of your shift. I found a long strand of hair on the inside of the toilet rim.”

First of all… ALLOW myself? Like I’m, what? Possessed by demons who absolutely will not tolerate me keeping track of every strand of hair that might be in the room? Or is this simply friendly advice on how to win the psychic battle with my more slovenly self?

If this actually had happened, I would be (hypothetically) not the only person in my workplace who thinks that this person has a major screw loose. If you have so little to worry about that you have to make a federal case out of a single strand of hair, then I want your life for even a day.

But I’m all about solutions. So if this insane scenario were to happen, here’s the suggestion I’d make to management:

I think all bridgetenders, even the bald ones (so as not to show favoritism) should be required to wear hair nets during their entire shift. Hair net dispensers could be placed at all entrances, and the employee would not be allowed to clock in without donning one. A hair net log book could be kept, both a paper copy and on the computer, and both bridge operators would be required to sign it on shift change, verifying that hair nets were being worn. Of course, special hair net disposal procedures would have to be implemented to avoid a hazmat situation.

DNA samples should be required during the employment process so that if there is a question as to the offending hair’s origin, that may be quickly and quite expensively resolved. Anyone who refuses to provide said sample should be wrestled to the ground and shaved from head to toe. If they claim some sort of exemption for aesthetic reasons, they should be required to encase their entire head in a plastic bag until such time as they choose to comply.

Further, “hair nets in place” should be added to the supervisory site visit form, and supervisors should be more stealthy when approaching the bridges so that they can catch and fire people who are out of uniform. Therefore, the alarm system should be disabled, because otherwise we could all have advanced warning and put the hair nets on as you approach.

Better yet, let’s install secret surveillance cameras and hire a staff member to monitor us at all times. A sensor should also be set up to detect stray hairs and send an electric shock into the operator’s chair if any violations occur. And any stray hairs left at the end of one’s shift should require removal by using the offender’s tongue, attached for the first offense, detached for the second.

I think we can all agree that it is high time that management started taking things more seriously up in this mo’ fo’, so I look forward to your usual prompt and proactive resolution measures. Thanks ever so much.

shaving head

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The Septic Tank Guy

Once every two weeks, a guy comes to the bridge to pump out our septic tank. I hope he’s paid well. That’s one disgusting job.

No matter how evolved we would like to think we are, there’s no getting around the fact that we are biological beings, and somewhere, every minute of the day, some poor schmuck is dealing with our feces. Think about it. Every time you flush the toilet, you are propping up a huge sector of the economy. Plumbers, treatment plant operators, septic tank guys, the entire port-a-potty industry, toilet paper, cleaning supply and bathroom fixture companies, those charged with monitoring and cleaning up our polluted rivers and streams, medical personnel who treat all the various diseases brought on by bad sanitation, even the bad comedians who thrive on poop jokes.

Everybody’s got to make a living. But I think I’d have a hard time finding job satisfaction as a septic tank guy. Granted, you’re providing a very valuable and important service, but come on. Imagine having to spend your every working moment dealing with other people’s sh**.

Well, come to think of it, a lot of us do that anyway, don’t we?

Calvin

Bad Words

I used to work with someone who would get horrified if we used the word “toilet” in the log book. As in, “The toilet overflowed and needs to be repaired.” She said that the only acceptable word to use is “commode.” Oh my. Such fragile sensibilities must get bruised quite a bit in a world where one no longer wears gloves and pillbox hats.

I’ve always been amused at people who are bothered by word use. Words, in and of themselves, have no moral, ethical or emotional content. Words are words. They have definitions. That’s it. There is no such thing as a “bad” word. Cursing doesn’t cause you to be cursed. People who get worked up by word use have an overactive need to control or feel superior.

What makes words objectionable is the intent behind them. If your intent is to shock or offend or embarrass, then that is what people should take exception to. Hate speech isn’t defined by the vocabulary. It’s a verbal expression of a person’s nefarious objective.

I once wrote a blog entry about one of my pet peeves, gender-specific curse words. Don’t ever call me a b**ch unless you want to be deleted from my life. But it’s not the word itself that bugs me. It’s the implication that adding “female” into the mix makes the insult even worse. So I’m not upset at the word, I’m upset at your mindset as you’re using it.

Words are tools. Tools can be used for good or evil, but at the end of the day, they’re just tools. It’s the hand that wields the tool that is to blame for what it creates.

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[image credit: stephaniemcmillan.org]