Plumbing alterations.

I spent most of Saturday changing out a toilet in the Johnson house.  The old one had been an irritation for a long time.  It was one of those that needed to be flushed two or three time and occasionally needed the application of a plunger (plumber’s friend) to accomplish its purpose.  In addition to those failings, it had a fourteen or fifteen inch seat, so for old coots It was hard to get onto and sometimes even harder to leave.

Fortunately I had son, Stuart, to do a lot of the heavy lifting or the task might never have been accomplished.   New John = Nice John, comfortable seating up seventeen inches from the floor, and, so far, it has accomplished its task with notable efficiency.  I put the old one out in the back yard till I can dispose of it properly.  

I couldn’t help reflecting about an earlier episode in one of our homes  (quite early in the marriage) when I placed the old John out in the front yard preparatory to disposal when I had what I thought was a creative and interesting idea.   I filled the bowl with potting soil and transplanted a hydrangea bush with pretty dark blue blooms into the bowl.   I had just finished filling the tank with potting soil and was about to plant something else, (petunias, I think) when Janet drove home from “wherever she had been” (I don’t always remember extraneous items). when she slammed on the brakes of her car (not even coming in the driveway) jumped out of the car, approached my creation  with a call of something like “What in the world is that supposed to be?”  It was then that I discovered that my beautiful wife did not share all of my opinions about what is creative, and had a manner of expressing her disagreement energetically, forcefully and with a remarkable lack of subtlety.  Subsequently the  hydrangea found its way into a clay pot, the potting soil went on the flour beds and John made an ignominious trip to the dump. 

She told a number of friends about the occurrence, and, to my disappointment most of them agreed with her.