One day deep and poetic. The next day impassioned about the most drearily commonplace.
That is what you are all in for. Day in day out, 365 times. Suckers.
Yes, that is my toilet. Now you ask me, why am I ecstatic, elated and exultant about a toilet? Easily explained folks: I am not a spring chicken anymore (secret old lady talk for the fact that I need to use the restroom frequently) and my toilet stopped working completely 17 DAYS ago. For those of you wondering, I have had to walk all the way to the barn (in the cold and dark and night and cold and dirt and spiderwebs and gross) at all times of the
day night and use the toilet in there:
Before you ask why I, as a renter, allowed this problem to continue for such a prolonged phase please see this entry, then you will understand that I am a few clowns short of a circus and/or I have a full 6-pack, but I lack the plastic thingy to hold it all together.
gave up trying to work it out/arguing/threatening decided I would pay to have my septic tank emptied myself and try and revive my leach lines. Tonight people, tonight I got to use a restroom located in the same building in which I sleep. This makes it a noteworthy day in my life. Thank you all for staying through this traumatic post. I know it was hard, but I appreciate you.
P.S. Yes, yes I am deducting the bill from the rent. I might be a moron, but I am not an idiot.