Here’s a funny but true story from a long time ago when my kids were little. Enjoy! ~ Katy
I never thought I was the kind of gal to have a toilet sitting in her front yard. Yet there it was by my hydrangea bush.
Now, I knew full well that my home was not a palatial estate. At just 998 square feet, my 1959 ranch house boasted one bathroom and a single carport for our family of four. Still, it was home and I knew there shouldn’t be a toilet in the front yard.
Let me back up an hour to when everything swirled out of control.
I had to go to the bathroom. Miraculously, I was able to use the facilities alone, as my two young kids were playing outside with their dad.
Cue Mel Gibson in Braveheart shouting, “Freedom!”
It was a delightful spring evening and the bathroom window was propped open with a nifty block of wood. That’s because the sash that allowed the window to stay open by itself had long since broken. The chunk of wood holding it open was much cheaper than an entire replacement window.
After finishing my business, I flushed and stood up. As I bent my elbows to fasten my pants, my right elbow connected with the block of wood, dislodging it from where it propped open the window. As if tossed by Tom Brady, the block spiraled directly into the flushing toilet.
Exactly as the flush was finishing, the block got sucked into the opening at the bottom of the bowl. It fit perfectly–and became the perfect plug.
The only toilet in our house was now out of commission.
Minutes went by and I couldn’t get the block out. My husband couldn’t budge it either. My children didn’t try to get it out, but they looked elated that Mommy plugged the toilet and not them with the 82 toys they had tried to flush in recent years.
We called the pricey after-hours plumber. He couldn’t remove the block of wood, which by this time had swelled into an even more impenetrable plug.
But the plumper did remove our only toilet from the floor and take it to the front yard where he worked on getting the block out.
So that’s how we ended up with our toilet by the hydrangea bush. It was surrounded by the perp (me), my spouse, the plumber, and two little kids with tiny bladders. Don’t forget the 37 neighbors out for a walk on a beautiful spring evening, three Girl Scouts selling cookies, and the teenager across the street mowing his lawn.
The plumber finally gave up and recommended we install a new toilet for $500. That free block of wood that had held our window open was no longer such a bargain.
But with two kids doing the potty dance in the front yard and no second bathroom, not to mention a crowd of neighbors watching the show, we did what we had to do.
“I gotta go potty!” my oldest cried on cue.
I’ve got just the $500 toilet for you, kid. And maybe it’s time for a new bathroom window, too.