Add a Catchy Title Here

This was going to be a heartfelt plea from introverts to extraverts as we "return to normal" post-pandemic. Nope. I'm going to save that for another day. Today I'm writing about a totally universal concept we can all reach across the aisle and agree on: toilets.

God knows what I'll title it. And the tags . . . ?!

First off: I'm typing on my iMac and not on my work pc (on my break of course because I would never ever work on my personal blog while on the clock say at the Circulation Desk). This means the demon is here. Specifically she is in the space between me and the computer where one would expect ti locate a keyboard. It is where I would like to have the keyboard. But the demon claimed that spot, even calling dibs despite the keyboard being there first and being many years older than she. Which means I have to sort of type over head. Which is apparently an invasion of her air space. Which she has no choice but to defend. By biting my hand. While I type.

Until I get mad and make her get down. But then she's mad because she's such a fucking diva so she's determined to get in one last bite on my ankles before stalking off like she can't believe how the riff raff (me) has been allowed to ruin an area surely reserved for royalty (her). So I hide my feet and ankles under a throw, the one she sometimes sleeps on under my desk, occasionally shaking the other end of the throw at her bullfighter-style.

All of which could be avoided if she would just let me type in peace. Or if wix would let me write a new post from my phone without downloading their creators' app. I mean, I can otherwise edit this site, change the format of the pages, just not the content. What's that about?! Yes, I should just download the damn app except now it's a matter of principle. (No, I don't know which principle. I'll have to check and get back to you on that.)

(Annnnnnd now she's doing innocent-kitty-in-a-harsh-world pose under the throw by my feet. Demon.)

What? Oh, right, the post. Like I even remember at this point.

Toilets!

It was a little wild at work this morning. I ordered the woman who is technically my supervisor and the coworker with whom I spend the most time at Circ to just go now, meaning they should do the outreach plus trip to the offsite book lockers/secondary book return box. Because there's just the four of us usually on Saturdays and we have very limited time for everyone to get their lunch break. If I hadn't told them to just go now, eat lunch when they got back, and relieve coworker R and me so we could eat, well, it's now 8:44 pm and they'd still be discussing it. No, I exaggerate. R and I would have quietly killed them, stuffed their bodies on one of the meeting rooms we can't use for meetings because of covid, finished out the day, closed, and gone our separated ways. I doubt we would even been haunted by the faint, muffled sound of their hearts beating under a mountain of stacking chairs.

Then she called. Anyone who has ever worked in a library or retail or any other public service job knows what I mean. She's beyond annoying. And even the simplest transaction is at least a five minute monologue (because she doesn't let you speak even when she asks you many many many questions). R was impressed with how quickly I got off the phone; it felt like at least fifteen minutes but actually that would be quicker than many of her calls. I'm pretty sure I had time to bash my brains out on the Circ Desk, but I didn't try it. Not this time.

Anyway, I eventually got to slip in a word. Two words. "Okay. Goodbye." Then it was just the usual Saturday at the public library experience, which is basically keeping neighborhood kids from accidentally killing themselves in the parking lot because their parents truly believe that playing in a busy parking lot is safer than walking across the street to an actual park. Also, our parking lot often has chickens in it, because of course it does.

None of the above is relevant to the toilet post. I just needed to vent. Well, starting the day bossing around my boss is, if not exactly relevant does at least fit in with the tone of the toilet part.

Back at my own desk (finally!) with a door between me and the crazy. I had an email from my brother. It was an email of a text. I checked my phone and didn't have the text from him. Just the email. And I still don't know what that was about. And it was nothing major. He took our mom shopping. For clothes. In a clothing store. Which in a state where people have stopped getting vaccinated now that there's plenty and you don't have to make up high-risk medical reasons or lie about your age to get it is pretty major. But mom's fully vaccinated and she's been complaining about not having clothes that fit now that she's shrunk several inches and weighs under 90 pounds. And I'm so glad he took her and not me even if I did have to deal with that patron. But since he was shopping with mom he wouldn't have time to bring my niece to my house so she could earn some service hours cutting up the branches of the weed/tree that partly came down during the final April snow. Which is fine. I'm just adding to the pile for her to cut and bundle into manageable bits. (I'm going to highlight "bits" just so I know to come back and replace it with a better word. Ignore it. And this if I forget to replace bits and delete this note.)

Which meant I didn't have to race straight home to meet them and make sure E (my niece, I really do need to make up aliases for everybody) had gloves and recycled lawn waste bags and limb loppers and a saw. Which was really good because I really needed to stop at the store on the way home, even tho I did the shopping yesterday, because last night my toilet seat broke. Which I'm trying to not take personally. It was a cheap seat inexpertly installed me and sciencey friend several years ago and it was the wrong size to boot because I didn't realize toilet seats could be round or elongated and my toilet is round but I bought elongated.

I saw toilet seats last week at the store and had then thought, "Kroger sells toilet seats. huh." And I remembered where I'd seen them in the store and it was in the furnace filters, auto supplies, and misc tools aisle which actually makes sense. Or as much sense as buying your toilet seat at the grocery store. And I remembered a couple of other items I'd meant to get yesterday but weren't written on the list so I didn't get them.

Saturday afternoon at the store, so of course it was practically empty. I jest. It was packed. The checkout lines, even for the u-scans, were each at least ten deep and merging into each other. The u-scan employee saw me balancing (of course I didn't get a cart for three items!) my stack and offered to check me out at the main u-scan control module desk. Not check me out, but, you know what I mean. So he took each item and scanned them and set them aside. And since he was working from the top of my stack he scanned from smallest/lightest (package of five store brand heat/cold patches for my back) to awkward (set of five baking pans) to largest/heaviest/most awkward (toilet seat).

"Wow. You have an . . . interesting . . . " he trailed off.

"Yeah. It's been that kind of day."

Epilogue

The new toilet seat is the right size this time and it's the same brand, or at least uses the same hardware, as the previous. So I inexpertly kept the existing screw thingies, just popped off the broken and popped on the new. Then popped on the new with a lot more force after I next used the toilet and the seat tried to slide off when I sat and I kind of peed a little on my hand when I tried to abruptly restand without having completely sat. But it seems set now. And I saved the baggie of screws and miniature book of instructions so I can someday replace the old screw thingies, yeah, right, like that's going to happen. And I washed my hands several times to remove all traces of pee.