Thursday, March 24, 2011

Meet my new "Friend".

When I walked out of a school one day in May of 2008,  it somehow never occurred to me that I should rush right out and buy an extra plunger to ship off to Europe.   I guess I just figured there were certain items that I could simply leave behind,  and that would be that.


Whereas most people get up in the morning and perform certain "ablutions",  I find that my schedule in that department can be somewhat erratic.
 I may have alluded to this in the past,  in a round about sort of way,  but for a few years now such has been the case that outings or certain activities have had to wait until "certain issues" have been dealt with.
 Am I being obtuse enough?

Oh,  and I'm not alone in this,  but I'm not about to start naming names or times of day, or night.  Best to not go there.

 Turns out,  yesterday afternoon around five o'clock I suddenly realised I had better go for the "big one",  only to the discover that when I flushed,  the results were not exactly spectacular.
 There was no spillage thankfully,  but you may recall that I've spoke at some length about the peculiar type of "ledge" toilet that we've been blessed with,  and when all is not well in the flushing end of things,  there can be a certain amount of "debris"  that tends to get left behind.
Um,  "high and dry",  as it were.


Actually,  I seem to recall it was more like,  "Oh shit..."

The exhaust fan wasn't really helping.

 I had a fleeting thought that maybe the plumber had somehow sabotaged my crapper, (he had to go) but quickly realised it probably had more to do with some tired meatballs I had flushed a couple days ago.
Damn those meatballs!  They must have got caught crossways.
 Mental note.   Old meatballs are definitely going to have to go into the garbage,  and I'll just have to suck it up and make a deliberate trip down to the bin.
 Can't be helped.

The reason I mentioned the time is because thankfully the stores were still open,  and I had this glimmer of a hope that Müller might have the required item.   Usually when there is a particular item that I'm hunting for,  it can never be found,  but I'm actually thinking I've been living in this country long enough to begin to hope to know where to find stuff.
Note the careful wording.

That's usually the point at which we end up packing up to move.

So now this is the second plumbing issue in as many days,  and if these thing "happen in threes",  as the saying goes,  I'm going to be really upset.  I know "shit happens",  but c'mon!
Sorry,  I couldn't help myself.
That just slipped out.
I'll stop now.

In other news,   got the usual evening phone call from Travelling Companion,  which is the norm when she's away,  and in typical fashion I asked the question as to how her day had gone,  and it would seem that it was a bit of a long and tiring one.
Sometimes it's one of those goofy "team building" exercises where they have to make a Sherman Tank out of peanut brittle or some such thing,  but this time around it was a bit different.
Apparently a huge group of them got trucked off to an orphanage somewhere and they had to do some sort of manual labour.


 There was among other things, some fence building involved,  along with some other tasks for which none of these people were at all equipped.
Just occurred to me:  Fence.  Orphanage.  What's with that?

  It's a noble thing to volunteer,  and certainly in the case of an orphanage,  quite often the efforts are both needed and appreciated.
 The thing is,  these folks are essentially office workers.   There are worker types in blue shirts with either their name or something like "Facilities Services"  embroidered on one of their shirt pockets for this kind of work.
So at the time of her phone call,  she was back in her room for a little rest after having been on her feet for a good four or five hours.  Remember how I was telling you about her knees,  and how they're pretty much shot?
Not enough painkillers to really take off the edge it seems.

Then later, they were all going to be herded onto buses to go somewhere for dinner!

Such fun!

I didn't need to reflect on the matter for too terribly long to realise that being here at home trying to get my shit to go down a tiny hole wasn't such a bad deal after all.

I'd like to point out that I really struggled with the "labels",  but I'm pretty sure having a stupid "lay and display"  toilet fits in with "cultural stuff".
I mean,  where else?  Technology?  I don't think so.


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Well, I've been getting too many spam comments showing up. Just a drag, so we'll go another route and hope that helps. So, we won't be hearing anything more from Mr. Nony Moose.
I guess I'll just have to do without that Gucci purse.