Does the Tardis have a bathroom?
That is what I found myself wondering the other day as I pulled into my driveway after a day of work. And the reason I was wondering this, is because sitting on my front lawn as I arrived, were several large pallets containing several even larger boxes. Between the pallets and the boxes, they took up my entire front yard! I'll admit, it is a small yard, but still.
And the reason bathrooms in the Tardis came to mind, is that all the stuff in the boxes, had to fit into my bathroom! It looked most assuredly as if if the objects within the boxes, which were a bathtub, shower surrounds, toilet, counter with built in sink, etc. etc. looked like they easily took up more space than my bathroom had. Since the Tardis has more room inside than out, I was wondering how they installed the restroom, and weather or not I could do the same!
Now, you may ask yourself, why were all these bathroom fixtures sitting on my front lawn? That thought crossed my mind as well, but I have stopped asking such questions of the universe, as it usually just laughs at me when I do.
But, the comedy of errors that is my new bathroom began several weeks ago, during my mom's visit, which I talked about Here.
Well, my mother had figured that I could just rent the little Home Depot truck that is, on rare occasions, available for $19 an hour or something like that, and pick up all these wonderful and special ordered ( hence, not returnable) bathroom fixtures. The bathtub and shower surround is a new type, with lots of interlocking slots and clips, that is supposed to be much better at keeping water out of where water should not be, even without caulking, than old fashioned tub and shower surrounds. We shall see.
So, once Home Despot called to inform us the fixtures had arrived I talked with Marti about it and told her I would try to rent the little Despot truck and pick up the stuff, but if I could not rent the truck, I would arrange for a delivery. All fine and good, except that Marti was only half awake it seems, and so only heard the part about “arrange for a delivery.”
The next day, I came home from work, and opened the drawer where I knew I had put the copy of the invoice for all the new bathroom wonders, as I figured they would want to see if before they let me drive off with over $2000 worth of bath fixtures.
Well, it was not there. So, for the next several hours, I tore apart every place where I could possibly have put it, to no avail. Then, I got a call from Marti telling me that Home Depot will deliver, for $65, and that she had paid the fee and Home Despot would call to arrange a delivery time. I asked Marti if she had the invoice, and she said of course, because she figured they would want to see it before they delivered over $2000 worth of bathroom fixtures. I smiled, counted to ten, and thanked Marti for arranging the delivery.
The next day, I went and did the Day Job thing as usual for a weekday, and when I got home, I checked phone messages as is my habit. There were several, between 8 am and 10 am, all from Home Depot asking Marti to call a guy named Devin back to arrange a delivery time.
Marti had slept through the phone calls. I didn't blame her, she has been through several kinds of medical hell in the past 2 years, and sleep is the best healer, so that's fine. Except of course, when I called Devin back at 6 pm, I was informed that Devin had left for a one week vacation a few hours ago, and yes, Devin was the only person at this Home Despot who was authorized to arrange deliveries.
I smiled, counted to ten, told them I'd call back in a week, and went and had several Raison-de-etres's, which is my current favorite craft brew. Since Raison de etre clocks in at about 8.2% alcohol, I slept well that night, which was the intent.
Well, we waited the week until Devin returned from... wherever he went, and then Marti called and arranged for the delivery. Of course, what no one bothered to mention throughout this whole process, was that around here, Home Despot only does “curbside delivery” I.E , they drop the shyt in front of your house and run.
Well, there was certainly no room in the house to store the new fixtures, so I moved them out to the back porch ( this was no small feat by the way!). I looked up our local weather report, which said there was a 20% chance of scattered showers that evening... so I threw a tarp over the large cardboard boxes and went to bed.
That night of course, we had a tremendous thunderstorm. The tarp was blown off the boxes, which meant the cardboard soon became soggy and assumed the consistency and appearance of wet oatmeal.
So, in the morning as I poured my first cup of coffee, I saw that instead of a bunch of boxes, we had a bunch of spiffy new bathroom fixtures covered in wet oatmeal on our back porch. Except of course, for the bathtub. The bathtub you see, had a liner in it to protect the finish during shipping and construction, and that liner covered the hole for the drain. So rather than covered, our spiffy new bathtub was filled to the brim with a slurshey ( yes, its a word, because I say it is!) substance that looked, and felt, like cold, thin oatmeal.
As I was sipping my coffee and staring at the slurshey oatmeal filled tub, I noticed an omnious lump in the oatmeal. I reached down and pulled from the slimy mess, a soggy wet mass that at one time, had been the installation instructions for this spiffy new tub and shower surround, with lots of interlocking tabs and clips.
At that point, I stood there with coffee in hand wondering what I had done in a past life. But I wonder that on an almost daily basis, so that's nothing new. I briefly entertained the idea of calling up Collin and Justin over in the UK... I can just image how that would go. I would ring them up and say “Ah! There you are! This is some random gothic chap over in the U.S, and I was wondering if you two would care to pop over for a bit of breffie some morning this week? You would? Oh, excellent! I do hope you like oatmeal?”
And then Collin and Justin would descend from on high on a beam of white light... and proceed to insult me, my decor, my plants, my animals and anything else that met their eye with biting wit, heavily and not-so-subtly laden with sexual innuendo. Then Justin would wave his magic shrubbery/corsage and in an instant... “poofda!” my oatmeal covered fixtures would be magically transformed into the bathroom of my dreams!
When I opened my eyes from this pleasant reverie, I was still standing barefoot, in my silk bathrobe, with a cup of coffee in one hand, staring at slimy oatmeal covered bathroom fixtures and holding a pasty lump that had once been the instruction booklet in my other hand.
I glanced heavenward, and raised my cup of joe to the skies, as if asking for a benediction for the quest upon which I was about to embark. Then, with a glance back to the slime covered fixtures, I quietly whispered to them in my most menacing tone... “this means war you know.” After that, I padded back into the house to put on some socks and underwear, and get another cup of coffee, 'cause my current one had gone cold.
TO BE CONTINUED>
And the reason bathrooms in the Tardis came to mind, is that all the stuff in the boxes, had to fit into my bathroom! It looked most assuredly as if if the objects within the boxes, which were a bathtub, shower surrounds, toilet, counter with built in sink, etc. etc. looked like they easily took up more space than my bathroom had. Since the Tardis has more room inside than out, I was wondering how they installed the restroom, and weather or not I could do the same!
Now, you may ask yourself, why were all these bathroom fixtures sitting on my front lawn? That thought crossed my mind as well, but I have stopped asking such questions of the universe, as it usually just laughs at me when I do.
But, the comedy of errors that is my new bathroom began several weeks ago, during my mom's visit, which I talked about Here.
Well, my mother had figured that I could just rent the little Home Depot truck that is, on rare occasions, available for $19 an hour or something like that, and pick up all these wonderful and special ordered ( hence, not returnable) bathroom fixtures. The bathtub and shower surround is a new type, with lots of interlocking slots and clips, that is supposed to be much better at keeping water out of where water should not be, even without caulking, than old fashioned tub and shower surrounds. We shall see.
So, once Home Despot called to inform us the fixtures had arrived I talked with Marti about it and told her I would try to rent the little Despot truck and pick up the stuff, but if I could not rent the truck, I would arrange for a delivery. All fine and good, except that Marti was only half awake it seems, and so only heard the part about “arrange for a delivery.”
The next day, I came home from work, and opened the drawer where I knew I had put the copy of the invoice for all the new bathroom wonders, as I figured they would want to see if before they let me drive off with over $2000 worth of bath fixtures.
Well, it was not there. So, for the next several hours, I tore apart every place where I could possibly have put it, to no avail. Then, I got a call from Marti telling me that Home Depot will deliver, for $65, and that she had paid the fee and Home Despot would call to arrange a delivery time. I asked Marti if she had the invoice, and she said of course, because she figured they would want to see it before they delivered over $2000 worth of bathroom fixtures. I smiled, counted to ten, and thanked Marti for arranging the delivery.
The next day, I went and did the Day Job thing as usual for a weekday, and when I got home, I checked phone messages as is my habit. There were several, between 8 am and 10 am, all from Home Depot asking Marti to call a guy named Devin back to arrange a delivery time.
Marti had slept through the phone calls. I didn't blame her, she has been through several kinds of medical hell in the past 2 years, and sleep is the best healer, so that's fine. Except of course, when I called Devin back at 6 pm, I was informed that Devin had left for a one week vacation a few hours ago, and yes, Devin was the only person at this Home Despot who was authorized to arrange deliveries.
I smiled, counted to ten, told them I'd call back in a week, and went and had several Raison-de-etres's, which is my current favorite craft brew. Since Raison de etre clocks in at about 8.2% alcohol, I slept well that night, which was the intent.
Well, we waited the week until Devin returned from... wherever he went, and then Marti called and arranged for the delivery. Of course, what no one bothered to mention throughout this whole process, was that around here, Home Despot only does “curbside delivery” I.E , they drop the shyt in front of your house and run.
Well, there was certainly no room in the house to store the new fixtures, so I moved them out to the back porch ( this was no small feat by the way!). I looked up our local weather report, which said there was a 20% chance of scattered showers that evening... so I threw a tarp over the large cardboard boxes and went to bed.
That night of course, we had a tremendous thunderstorm. The tarp was blown off the boxes, which meant the cardboard soon became soggy and assumed the consistency and appearance of wet oatmeal.
So, in the morning as I poured my first cup of coffee, I saw that instead of a bunch of boxes, we had a bunch of spiffy new bathroom fixtures covered in wet oatmeal on our back porch. Except of course, for the bathtub. The bathtub you see, had a liner in it to protect the finish during shipping and construction, and that liner covered the hole for the drain. So rather than covered, our spiffy new bathtub was filled to the brim with a slurshey ( yes, its a word, because I say it is!) substance that looked, and felt, like cold, thin oatmeal.
As I was sipping my coffee and staring at the slurshey oatmeal filled tub, I noticed an omnious lump in the oatmeal. I reached down and pulled from the slimy mess, a soggy wet mass that at one time, had been the installation instructions for this spiffy new tub and shower surround, with lots of interlocking tabs and clips.
At that point, I stood there with coffee in hand wondering what I had done in a past life. But I wonder that on an almost daily basis, so that's nothing new. I briefly entertained the idea of calling up Collin and Justin over in the UK... I can just image how that would go. I would ring them up and say “Ah! There you are! This is some random gothic chap over in the U.S, and I was wondering if you two would care to pop over for a bit of breffie some morning this week? You would? Oh, excellent! I do hope you like oatmeal?”
And then Collin and Justin would descend from on high on a beam of white light... and proceed to insult me, my decor, my plants, my animals and anything else that met their eye with biting wit, heavily and not-so-subtly laden with sexual innuendo. Then Justin would wave his magic shrubbery/corsage and in an instant... “poofda!” my oatmeal covered fixtures would be magically transformed into the bathroom of my dreams!
When I opened my eyes from this pleasant reverie, I was still standing barefoot, in my silk bathrobe, with a cup of coffee in one hand, staring at slimy oatmeal covered bathroom fixtures and holding a pasty lump that had once been the instruction booklet in my other hand.
I glanced heavenward, and raised my cup of joe to the skies, as if asking for a benediction for the quest upon which I was about to embark. Then, with a glance back to the slime covered fixtures, I quietly whispered to them in my most menacing tone... “this means war you know.” After that, I padded back into the house to put on some socks and underwear, and get another cup of coffee, 'cause my current one had gone cold.
TO BE CONTINUED>