I finally got the toilet permanently fixed at six AM the morning I was leaving town. I had to do that -- my friend Yancey, who owns my apartment, is there with his family for the whole time I'm gone. He probably expects a working toilet.
I'd fixed it the night before too, as Denise sat on a step-stool and chatted. That was our social engagement for the evening. I triumphantly finished, rolled up off the floor, and declared I didn't see any leaks from the tank.
Then it leaked.
I couldn't bear to take apart the toilet again. I'd gone through four wax rings on the base -- two the first time, and two after I realized I'd sawed the bolts off too short to add the snap-on bolt covers and had to re-do it. Then I'd gone through two sets of fabric washers on the tank-to-bolt set-up. I'd overtightened the first time and torn some of the washers. I rushed off to Home Depot and started over.
"I need to clean," I said, putting down my channel locks and picking up my Swiffer. Denise took up the sweeping responsibilities before she had to leave an hour later.
At 2:30 AM, I had cleaned the whole place and made piles of clothing to maybe take to Mexico. I'd pulled down my luggage and dragged the contents of my desktop computer to a small hard drive. I decided it might be okay to sleep a little.
I dragged myself out of bed at five and fixed the toilet, for real this time. I did laundry and took out the trash, then threw boxes and bags into my car, which I parked in my garage. I pulled my luggage out and limped to the PATH train, where I proceeded to miss every possible connection on my way to Newark.
Fortunately, the BoltBus out of Newark to DC leaves a few minutes late, so I made it. I was heading to my mother's for a few days before flying to Mexico.
And once I got on the bus, another passenger stepped right on my busted toe. I'd stubbed it mightily on a powered-down vacuum cleaner on Wednesday night and had been trying hard to ignore it. But I couldn't wear normal shoes or sandals, and was traveling in dollar-store flip-flops that let my toe hang out. There was a giant bruise on my foot.
My mother and I bought gauze and tape and now I have a taped up toe using the next toe as a splint, and I'm in Dallas-Fort Worth Airport en route to Mexico.
And I bought fancier flip-flops. So now I'm all class.
I dragged myself out of bed at five and fixed the toilet, for real this time. I did laundry and took out the trash, then threw boxes and bags into my car, which I parked in my garage. I pulled my luggage out and limped to the PATH train, where I proceeded to miss every possible connection on my way to Newark.
Fortunately, the BoltBus out of Newark to DC leaves a few minutes late, so I made it. I was heading to my mother's for a few days before flying to Mexico.
And once I got on the bus, another passenger stepped right on my busted toe. I'd stubbed it mightily on a powered-down vacuum cleaner on Wednesday night and had been trying hard to ignore it. But I couldn't wear normal shoes or sandals, and was traveling in dollar-store flip-flops that let my toe hang out. There was a giant bruise on my foot.
My mother and I bought gauze and tape and now I have a taped up toe using the next toe as a splint, and I'm in Dallas-Fort Worth Airport en route to Mexico.
And I bought fancier flip-flops. So now I'm all class.
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