What if I Changed My Own Toilet Seat?
Am I capable? The old toilet seat, which I will not show, is screwed in. I hate to think of what is turning those screws rusty and which I never noticed until now. More than twenty years of male visitors/children/neighbors/relatives doing their utmost (ahem) to, um, discolor the hardware. The seat also has scratches and marks on it which probably look very suspect to first-time visitors. Oh, the shame.
Let's face it. Men are the ones who cause the damage. I'm not going any further because delicacy forbids.But I'm feeling brave. I'm feeling that I ought to head out to WalMart or Aubuchon for a new seat. What about a new color that doesn't match the rest of the toilet? That would look tacky, wouldn't it? Or would it be quirky and witty?
I'm in the mood for improvements.
I'm also going to buy curtain hardware for my bedroom drapes that fell down last summer. I've been crouching in the hallway as I undress (because I can't undress in front of my de-curtained window) for these many months and I'm sick of it.
Here is part of what my purchase will include:
Yes, it's true and here's another fact. Somewhere in my house lurks a hammer. A real one, big and clunky. Comforting yet menacing. Menacing yet comforting. I have looked high and low for it, all to no avail. But soon I'm going to find it. Know how I know? Because I'm GOING TO BUY A NEW ONE. The two of them can be friends. Perhaps even lovers.
Hammer lovers (title?)
But THIS hammer I will take care of and won't lose. I know just where it will always live and I will never deviate from that location, as I must have with the old one. I must have leaned back in my repose and said oh what the frig, let me enjoy a few bonbons before I return this hammer to its rightful place. And then I never got around to it. Oh, I was slothful, but no more, dear reader. I am a careful hammer owner from now on.
Off to shop
love,
becky
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