One doesn't really appreciate the trappings of modern life until they are absent. Today the toilet is out of service because it was leaking on the bathroom floor. Husband is now at Home Depot buying a wax thingy to try to seal the pipe. Until that task is accomplished, the fixture is in pieces on the adjoining bedroom floor. Eventually we will have to call the plumber in again, but this so-called quick fix will get us through the rest of the unpaid months of summer.
So I regard the porcelain god dethroned. There is simply an ugly pipe coming up through the bathroom floor, exerting a strange fascination. I know it culminates in the septic tank (repaired last month), but I find myself contemplating the disappearance of all things into a cosmic void.
No, wait--that's not contemplation. I have to go.
I could go on about the unfair disparity in anatomy between men and women, brought to the fore of my consciousness by the necessity to ...uh... aim. That women have greater bladder control is a scientific fact, researched at some length by NASA when they were designing the space toilet for the Shuttle. That testing program also revealed that women can pee on command (a necessity when doing this kind of research). Men apparently have "performance anxiety" and thus cannot provide the necessary bodily fluids at the precise moment they are needed. Perhaps that is to compensate for anatomical inequity and the corresponding lack of convenience.
Thank goodness--Himself is home with the parts.