He dropped the ball on toilet repair, sort of.
I can fix most things when it comes to the toilet. When you lift the lid off the back I can fix the inner workings of making it flush, but when it comes to the cosmetic stuff (the easy stuff) I was slightly dumfounded. I have to admit I was mortified at how stupid I was, because this fix I'm about it explain was really a common sense deal.
I had done run out of common sense and I blame the flu, which sparked the entire project in the first place.
I won't go into gory details, but I had the stomach flu. The call in sick to work kind. (My co-workers thought I had the black plague.) The episodes of regurgitation were so violent I broke my toilet seat. I was so out of it I didn't realize I had done it until I was well enough to function. Me breaking the seat while hugging the throne proves that either a) I have some supersonic strength and weakness was not one of my symptoms, or b) the toilet seat was weak.
I'm going to go with letter A, but I digress.
I went to Wal-Mart, picked out my new seat, gave them $20 and walked on out. Okay, okay, you're right. I just can't lie. I walked into Wal-Mart with good intentions, but ended up giving them $80 and walked out only to realize that I had forgotten the toilet seat, and had to go back in. Don't judge. You've all done it.
Once I got home I got a flat head screwdriver and went to work. I pried off the tabs and started to unscrew the plastic bolts that kept the seat in place. They were tough to get started, but then they turned with ease. Nothing was happening. They weren't even peeking out over the surface. I was perplexed, but thought maybe the bolts were really long and it might take a few minutes. I ventured on and about 30 minutes later, a lot of swearing, and wiggling the seat (it was at least loose) I gave up and took a break. I wondered if my supersonic strength would allow me to just rip the seat off, but then I reconsidered and went back to the screwdriver.
It had been 45 minutes and now I was just getting pissed. What was the deal? Maybe they weren't supposed to come off.
"Right, if they never came off why do they sell new seats, dumbass," I had now started talking to myself. "Man, maybe I'm going to have to call Dad. I obviously don't know what I'm doing. Wow, stop talking to yourself."
Again, don't judge. At least I don't have cats.
I then got up to inspect the new bolts that would go in the back if I ever got the old seat off and realized they weren't really that long. What in the hell was going on? So I went back to the toilet and felt around. That's when I found the culprit.
There were Wingnuts. On the bolts.
Are you kidding me. I had been just turning the bolts with the screwdriver. Wonderful.
"You moron," I told myself. "Good thing you didn't call Dad. You would have never heard the end of this."
Once I figured it out the job took a whole three minutes. Three.
Needless to say I can change a toilet seat now. And, I did it all by myself. Dad may have dropped the ball on toilet repair, but he didn't drop the ball on making me independent.
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