Toilet Talk

Yesterday I stuck my hand in a toilet, not once, but twice.  The first time, I was in Bud's bathroom, emptying his garbage can (I've written about Bud's garbage can before).  As I lifted my head up, I bumped into the glass shelf over the toilet and knocked off two of Bud's Tiger Woods bobble-head figures.  They broke, of course, and a large piece of Tiger's black hat fell into the toilet.  I had no choice but to reach in and pull it out.  It lodged into a crevice and it took me at least a minute to retrieve it.  It was very unpleasant; the cleaning lady (me) was negligent last week and only cleaned the main level and I was upstairs.  Equally unpleasant was listening to Bud's unhappy rant when he discovered the broken bobble-heads.

Then, before bed, I found myself again sticking my hand in yet another toilet.  Coleman had stuffed a good portion of a toilet paper roll in the toilet and flushed.  It was clogged.  I reached in and pulled out a huge handful of paper; still clogged.  I reached in again and pulled out a gross and soggy handful; still clogged.  I could not believe that for the second time in one day I was reaching into a toilet.  I hope this never happens again.  Or, at least I hope the cleaning lady has been more diligent, the next time this happens.