I am awake later than usual because our apartment complex hadn't had water for the past three days. Today, water began its dreamy flow to the parched at around four in the afternoon. After I showered, I set to work filling my black garbage can with what I call security water for dry days. There was a knock on my door. My neighbor arrived for coffee, and while we were chatting on the couch, I heard the splish-splash of an overloaded garbage can while noticing H2O winding its way through my bedroom and spilling into the sitting room where we were engrossed in a conversation about German sausage.
Get the broom and squeegie. Flooded the house again.
When will I learn? And that's my toilet minus the seat. The seat fell off about the time I moved into the apartment. A toilet seat is not essential to one's bathroom experience, and I feel better off without it because it habitually pinched my bottom for the one or two days it was still attached to the actual toilet.
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