That title is not a metaphor. There is actually a toilet in my living room right now. It is nestled between the piano and the fireplace and it is staring at me.
When it showed up there this afternoon, I immediately wanted to yell to someone to move it, but then when I noticed the two men (Gary and his brother) who were in the process of working on the new bathroom floor, I decided to bide my time and be patient (even though it was already driving me crazy).
Unfortunately, it's dark now, my brother-in-law is gone, and Gary is watching a movie. It's going to take several days to get the floor laid, but there the toilet sits, staking its claim on that corner of the living room. The worst part is that I can see it from the couch, so there is no way to avoid noticing it.
"How long is this going to be here?"
"I don't have any idea," my husband mumbles from the couch.
"Well, there are a lot of other places I would rather it be. Even our bedroom is a better choice than the living room."
No answer.
I have worked for nine years to not be a nagging wife. Not that I have succeeded every day - I have been known to harp on more than one ocassion. But I try really hard. So right now I'm biting my tongue. I'm getting a new bathroom floor out of the deal. There is poverty and homelessness, neither of which I suffer from. I should be able to move past this and deal with a toilet in my living room for a few days.
Loud heavy sigh.
No response from the couch.
I know that I take a stand on some pretty silly things. For example, I expect that the blinds in the kitchen be raised to the same height (it looks trashy from the street if your blinds are not level). But I think I might not be asking too much on this one.
I'm sitting here reasoning it out.
He worked hard on this today. It's a long project - be patient.
Try to get past it - maybe it's not that big of a deal. Maybe no one will notice.
It is a big deal!
People will notice!
Maybe it will be nice to have an extra place to sit in the living room this week, since we will probably have visitors.
Maybe my two year old will actually use it to go potty.
I don't think I can let this one go. Maybe if I keeping sighing, he will take the hint. Maybe I'll show him this post and then he'll move it.
If it's not moved by the morning, one of two things will happen. Either I will break my resolution to refrain from nagging, or I will be spending my morning dragging a toilet into my office.
I may be embracing this philosophy of rolling with the punches and dealing with imperfections, but a girl's got to draw the line somewhere. I've decided my line is a commode in the living room.
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