No. 6 Tinkle: The Hole in the Floor
December 2006. I came home from my morning Rotary meeting fired up. Our club volunteered to participate in Group Study Exchange, a vocational exchange program for non-Rotarian professionals ages 40 and younger. We had the opportunity to host someone from Wales in our home for a week, and my brain was spinning with the musicality of the variations of that accent. Visions of a young Tom Jones danced through my head. Maybe he would even sing and wiggle his hips, and let me invite my girlfriends over to toss our underwear in appreciation of his efforts.
Only one thing separated me from my foreign accent lust-fest: our guest bedroom boasted a lowly half-bath. Making a guest, especially one of such possible prestige, traipse downstairs to take a shower simply wouldn’t do. It was inhospitable. Not Southern.
MTM was already on the job, though. His architectural genius concocted a way to fit a shower stall into that microscopic space and still have a sink and a toilet. In fact, he’d already removed the fixtures to get started ripping up the floor. The Welsh team wasn’t scheduled to arrive until April 2007, giving MTM four whole months to complete the Grand Expansion of the Bathroom Project. Even he said four months would be more than enough time to get everything done.
In mid-January, I knew we were in trouble when I caught him balancing on the exposed studs with a Shop Vac, sucking every mote of dust generated since 1851 into the hose. A perfectionist, he had to turn the machine off umpteen times because it overheated. But, I can’t put the floor back on knowing all that stuff is down there, Andra. It will give me nightmares.
By mid-March, the a lovely new charcoal grey tile floor was installed. Every square lined up infallibly. Nothing was uneven. No shortcuts were permitted.
I was having a nervous breakdown. Our possible-Tom Jones-lookalike guest will be arriving in less than two weeks, MTM. To quote my father, he doesn’t even have a pot to piss in. What do I have to do to help you get this bathroom finished?
Haughty silence expanded to fill the whole eviscerated space. Finally, MTM proclaimed You can’t help, because you won’t do it right.
My manipulative plan to fasttrack the bathroom expansion AND have a Tom Jones look-and-sound-alike backfired. When Leigh arrived, he didn’t look like Tom Jones, and he didn’t sing. He had to schelp downstairs to brush his teeth and take a shower.
But, I made sure he had a pot to piss in.
This post is part of the series My Top 10 Tinkles. If this is your first visit to this urinary extravaganza, please click here to start the series at the beginning. Thank you for reading my blog, for sharing it, and for spending time here.