Forgiveness and purple toothbrushes
Relationships are about trust. Without trust, there can be no relationship. When that trust is broken, it takes time to mend. I am in that process right now.
I moved to Clyman a few months ago. Before I moved in, there had been some plumbing problems and flood damage. As a result, the kitchen was newly remodeled and some work had been done to the bathroom. I was excited to be finally living in my own place. After 22 years of my parent's house, dorms, and barracks, I finally was renting my own place. But alas--there were dark clouds over paradise.
My toilet didn't flush right. If you were only there for number one, everything was fine. Number two, however... well, let's just not talk about it. I was heartbroken. There is a sacred bond between a man and his toilet. Like I said, relationships are all about trust. The toilet trusts me-- that I will not overfill it, that I will use a reasonable amount of toilet paper, and that I will keep it clean. And in return, I put my trust in the toilet--that when I deposit a reasonable amount in it, that it will take it away and ensure a clean and fresh smelling bathroom. That trust had been broken. One does not lightly concede such a valued friendship. Three times I called the landlord, and still the same issue.
But finally, a light appeared at the end of my irregular tunnel. My uncle, Al Shoup--a professional plumber, came riding into Clyman upon his white steed. (Actually, it was a Ford van, but just bear with me.) To the house, up the stairs, and into the bathroom he came, not stopping until he had retrieved a purple toothbrush from the soft underbelly of my plumbing.
So today's story has a happy ending. And as my toilet and I try to put back the shattered pieces of our lives, one bowel movement at a time, there is a lesson in this story for all of us. Do not betray your loved one's trust, be patient and willing to forgive when your trust is betrayed, and beware of purple toothbrushes.
I moved to Clyman a few months ago. Before I moved in, there had been some plumbing problems and flood damage. As a result, the kitchen was newly remodeled and some work had been done to the bathroom. I was excited to be finally living in my own place. After 22 years of my parent's house, dorms, and barracks, I finally was renting my own place. But alas--there were dark clouds over paradise.
My toilet didn't flush right. If you were only there for number one, everything was fine. Number two, however... well, let's just not talk about it. I was heartbroken. There is a sacred bond between a man and his toilet. Like I said, relationships are all about trust. The toilet trusts me-- that I will not overfill it, that I will use a reasonable amount of toilet paper, and that I will keep it clean. And in return, I put my trust in the toilet--that when I deposit a reasonable amount in it, that it will take it away and ensure a clean and fresh smelling bathroom. That trust had been broken. One does not lightly concede such a valued friendship. Three times I called the landlord, and still the same issue.
But finally, a light appeared at the end of my irregular tunnel. My uncle, Al Shoup--a professional plumber, came riding into Clyman upon his white steed. (Actually, it was a Ford van, but just bear with me.) To the house, up the stairs, and into the bathroom he came, not stopping until he had retrieved a purple toothbrush from the soft underbelly of my plumbing.
So today's story has a happy ending. And as my toilet and I try to put back the shattered pieces of our lives, one bowel movement at a time, there is a lesson in this story for all of us. Do not betray your loved one's trust, be patient and willing to forgive when your trust is betrayed, and beware of purple toothbrushes.
posted by oneweekend at 12:28 PM
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