I Have A Piss In My Bathroom Sink.
I reflect upon my awesome Friday.
It’s been yet another long day. I give ‘myself’ a shake and run the tap. Balefully I gaze at the toilet that is still brim-full of not-entirely-clean water.
Thirteen hours previously I had enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and had performed my bathroom habits before leaving for work. I had noticed that the toilet did not drain. And in fact had just filled.
“That’s fine”, I thought, “by the time I get home tonight it will have actually fixed itself. All on its own. Like that dead cat in the front garden all those years ago.”
I endure a working day dealing with small businesses who pretend not to exist after what is for them a terrifying Budget and large private businesses who are now spending money like it was some sort of competition.
And then attend after-work drinks with Newly-Gay Friend and yet another of his ‘gentleman callers’ without accidently getting pissed and offending people yet again and am now home safe and sound and need a wee.
Astoundingly nothing has resolved itself in my absence. For the eight-millionth time I reflect upon the doubly-rubbish nature of not only living alone but also being grown-up.
I arm myself with all the household disinfectant I can find and begin bending a wire clothes-hanger into the required shape.
I don’t much fancy anything for dinner anymore.
It’s been yet another long day. I give ‘myself’ a shake and run the tap. Balefully I gaze at the toilet that is still brim-full of not-entirely-clean water.
Thirteen hours previously I had enjoyed a leisurely breakfast and had performed my bathroom habits before leaving for work. I had noticed that the toilet did not drain. And in fact had just filled.
“That’s fine”, I thought, “by the time I get home tonight it will have actually fixed itself. All on its own. Like that dead cat in the front garden all those years ago.”
I endure a working day dealing with small businesses who pretend not to exist after what is for them a terrifying Budget and large private businesses who are now spending money like it was some sort of competition.
And then attend after-work drinks with Newly-Gay Friend and yet another of his ‘gentleman callers’ without accidently getting pissed and offending people yet again and am now home safe and sound and need a wee.
Astoundingly nothing has resolved itself in my absence. For the eight-millionth time I reflect upon the doubly-rubbish nature of not only living alone but also being grown-up.
I arm myself with all the household disinfectant I can find and begin bending a wire clothes-hanger into the required shape.
I don’t much fancy anything for dinner anymore.
posted by Tired Dad at
9:04 pm
18 Comments:
I guess it's time to move again.
Em: No, all fixed. I'd just prefer it if these things would magically sort themselves.
I'm petulant, but there are limits.
buy a plunger thingie, they seem to work wonders on clogs of all sorts. Also useful for smacking a wisearse upside the head, as needed.
Where's Dave?
I am gay!
Being THE grown up can be a pain in the butt.
My son expects me to COOK. I never cooked before he came along and am finding it bloody hard to show an interest in it now.
Still, having to cook is still miles better than being up to your elbow in u-bend detrius....
Ali x
Yup. See also: my dishwasher (full of water where it shouldn't be, I think, but who knows? No longer, well, washes. Impervious to poking). My strimmer (I never wanted a fucking strimmer in the first plate, and my ex informs me with mild satisfaction that mine seems to be fucked). And now, ultimate indignity, my box what makes the tv work. I'm moving into sheltered housing, it's all too hard. Being a grown up is shit, especially on your own.
Punx: I would, but it will be accepting the fact that it may happen again.
There he is.
Ali: Yeah, count your blessings.
Jay: I hear ya. I find the best thing to do is keep the labour-saving devices to a minimum. That way you don't have to fuck about fixing them when they inevitably go tits-up.
Hate entropy.
Empathy in your direction, TD, I think things like this should sort themselves out. Either that or your post has a kind of homeopathic remedy effect of making me feel much better about all the things I am waiting on to resolve themselves. Almost cheerful. Thanks.
Is there a helpline?
PB: What you siad.
Reading: My pleasure.
J: If there was I would have used it long since.
Is that where all your hair went?
I have a full head of hair thankyou very much.
But for how much longer?
Debs: God only knows.
Good to hear its not only me. The dead bird did start to move itself from outside my window but in the end a fancy flick with the flip flop did the trick.. Good job I don't have neighbours.
BTW thanks for amusing me when insomnia has kicked in
SS: Hello and welcome. I wouldn't use blogging as a solution to insomnia - it doesn't work. But thank you.
So that's what happened to my missing cat!
Thank you for closure....
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