I forget what I used to look like, and yet I’m constantly surprised when I look in the mirror. Sometimes it still shocks me that people can know me better than I know myself. Whoa… That was deep and stuff.
I just got off the phone with my mom. We talked for like, an hour and I couldn’t even tell you what we actually talked about. My mom is my friend, but she’s also, you know, my mom. She’s very wise and funny and usually tells me a lot of minute details about her day, which makes me laugh. Yesterday she told me about these cookies she made from a cake mix and then added nuts and white chocolate chips and chocolate chunks. Today she told me about an awesome smoothie she made with berries and bananas. I think we may have discussed the merits of fresh berries vs. frozen berries.
My mom likes to keep me abreast of the stuff going on back home. She tends to give me daily reports on the family cat’s current sleeping spot, her work shenanigans, and my family’s latest debacles. This week’s saga involves a broken water pump and a pink toilet. I guess my parent’s water pump stopped working, so you can hook a hose up to a neighbor’s hose and then use their water to flush your toilets and take a shower or whatever. I didn’t know you could do this, so I guess I learned a little homeowner-MacGyver lesson. They finally got their water pump fixed and in doing so realized that the pink toilet in our pink bathroom would not stop running (you better go catch it!). I also think that the tank was cracked or something. We refer to the “pink bathroom” and the “pink toilet” because, you guessed it, they’re pink. Not hot pink, not Pepto Bismol-pink, and not necessarily dusty rose pink. It wasn’t baby pink, it was the perfect unobtrusive shade of pink. This pink toilet was the best toilet ever. My sister and I were potty trained on that toilet. I think it was every kid in the family’s favorite toilet. I think it was original to the house and therefore was 30 years old. I think that’s a pretty good life span for a toilet. It also screamed 70s. Needless to say, I loved it.
My mom broke the news to me that they had to replace it. I asked her to take a photo of it for posterity. My sister also texted me the news of our dear friend’s demise. I’m glad that I’m not the only one who was attached to this toilet. My mom told me that they took it out to the curb on Sunday night for trash pick up on Monday morning. However, when my mom took out the trash bins on Monday morning, the pink toilet was gone. It filled my heart with glee to think that the pink toilet will still live on. I think the only proper way to memorialize these emotions is with a poem.
Dearest Pink Toilet, how I will I miss thee.
When I was young, you helped potty train me.
When I was sick, your porcelain was cool.
When I was little, you were my step stool.
It was just last winter, that I gave you a number 2.
I have such fond memories of just me and you.
When I prepped for my colonoscopy, you told me it would be alright.
When I got the flu, you were with me all night.
I have loved every year growing old with you.
As a kid I thought all houses had a pink loo.
I will miss you more than words can say,
But I understand why you could not stay.
You have done your duty,
And taken away all our doody.
But please know that my bum will miss you so,
But it understands why you had to go.
I hope you are at peace in your new home,
And just know, I wrote you this poem.
Pretty good for a BLONDE, eh? (All literary nominations can be sent to BLONDE HQ)
Today gets 5 Barbie Warhols:
Beautiful poem!!! :)
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