You know that Toilet seat that we bought, can you fit it soon please? The old one is horrible?
The Good Lady waved in the direction of the toilet as she spoke. Her face was crinkled with disgust as if the toilet seat were carved of the bloody stick-like bones of the bloggers who had migrated to Blurt.
Erm, I am not sure. I have a lot on.
I burbled from nearby trying to stay out of her sight so that she couldn't see my lying face.
The door of the bedroom I was hiding in thumped open and the Good Lady stood within its frame like some kind of face-eating monster from a Polish B-movie.
I say that like there are A movies in Poland, lol!
Are you frightened of replacing the Toilet seat?! You have been dodging this one for months?!
She snorted and growled low in her throat as is ready to pounce on me and shag the life out of for being a poor Handy-Man.
There are worse fates it is true but I was not yet ready to meet my maker.
Of course I am not scared to replace the damn thing. How hard can it possibly be, pfft?
I scoffed as if the man at the Ramen Cafe had tried to convince me to buy the Number 7 Noodle again.
I think you are, this is what you do when you don't want to do a house'y job. You dodge and hide and pretend you have a million other things on. I mean, is it not an easy thing to do?
By now the Good Lady was in the room with me, aggressively folding a pair of leggings.
It's totally easy, barely an inconvenience. I will bloody do it right now.
I dodged around her and headed off to get my tools.
Truth be told, I had been dodging this job. I didn't like doing toilet jobs. I mean doing a shit in a toilet was just about passable but fixing toilety things? Weren't there dudes you could pay to cavort about in your toilet for you?
Oh well. I trotted off to get my tool bag.
Mere moments later, I was creeping up the stairs and edging my head around the toilet door.
Everything was quiet and perfectly still. There was a dying fly buzzing around in a half-hearted circle on the floor near the toilet of dark forebodings and I thought, what a neat summation of life itself. Twisting around dying on the floor of existence whilst attempting to dodge the shits from Giants above.
But similar to masturbation, there is a time and a place for philosophy and the toilet ain't it.
Ten minutes in and I was lying on my back under the porcelain seat weeping fat tears of frustration as I struggled desperately to loosen the wingnuts of despair that fastened the toilet seat to the bowl.
Why won't you fucking move?!
I growled through gritted teeth.
With a jerk the wingnut I had been wrestling with loosened and a small cascade of brown muck fell on my face.
I gagged and threw myself to my feet spinning around in circles wishing, like the fly, that I could just die.
There was to be no such sweet release and after rinsing my mouth with fourteen gallons of water I got stuck back in.
Much wrestling and fiddling with little rubber widgets as if I were in a bizarre porn movie for midgets I was done.
I tramped downstairs and announced my victory to the Good Lady.
Oh look at you!
She cooed.
You look very proud of yourself! Are you? Are you proud?
She gave me a hug and pulled back to look at me, her face beaming.
As if I would be fucking proud of that. It's only a toilet seat?!
I huffed contemptuously at the idea of being proud of such a thing.
But as I boffed my tools away I realised...
I kind of was.