Dedicated to K. Vonngut (11/11/22-04/11/07)
So I’m sitting on the shower stall floor. Again. Hot water seems the only failsafe when nausea has me in Her viselike grip. But She hadn’t yet let go. So I sat and listened to music and looked at my toilet.
I doubt I would have given it much pondering in a hotel or a rental. But it’s a real consideration when you own your house. Few things are more menacing than a wrong choice there.
Thus it was with much cauton that I bought my current model, the most expensive available at Home Depot. I forget how much I paid, or what it’s called. But the advertising on the box said it was “Capable of Flushing 1,000 Golf Balls!”
Is that a standard unit of measure in toilet manufacturing? And why golf balls? Is that the average size? Or weight? Or volume?
And is 1,000 a lot? Did scientists count, or measure, or weigh or do whatever they did, and call out a Eureka! when they hit a thousand Titleists? Do plumbers talk about having to toil back in the day when you could cram only 15 golf balls down the crapper?
Anyway, She let go, and the nausea left, and I quit pondering. But that’s my Toilet Story.