empty promises

I reworked a little of the blog layout last night. Did you notice? Care? Wonder why I even bothered? I know. Mind blowing. It was a two parter: a little because I was bored, a lot because I'm such a nerd rewriting HTML code seemed like my own private Super Bowl party. Sigh. Can you buy a life on craigslist or is that more of an eBay purchase? double sigh.

Whilst I was refiling posts and making new labels (my idea of funsies - jealous), I noticed a fair amount of empty promises that I'd made on this thing. Topics I promised to revisit and expand on, but never did.

People. Where is the accountability?
I blame you for this. Here I am, throwing out story lines, and never following through. And there you are accepting this blindly. I'm as disappointed in you as I am in myself.

So. Today I will revisit and expand on a topic I hinted at months ago.
I will continue to work through my list until I have made good on my promises.
Or this promise itself could just end up on my list of lies to you. It's too early to tell. We'll just have to wait and see.

Our padded toilet seat.
We have a padded toilet seat. Let's just get that right out of the way. Start with the fact, the punchline - if you will -- and now we'll work backward to how this happened. And just so we're clear, this girl had nothing to do with it. For anyone keeping score, I teased this here and it's been 9 months without follow-through.

Chuck and his sister, bless their hearts, have an interesting sense of humor. I trust you've gathered this from all you know of him, but with his sister it seems their funny bones actually multiply rather than combine. Hmm. No, that's not the right way to describe this. I think the term mutate would be more applicable.

Chuck and Nan think things like padded toilet seats are funny.
Because that's normal. I think Jim Carey's funny. I'm a big fan of wiener dogs dressed as people. Padded toilet seats. Not so much.

When we moved into The House, Nan found it an utter necessity to buy Chuck a padded toilet seat of his very own (oh I'm pointing fingers here, Nancy). Because nothing else screams "first home" quite like it. And OF COURSE we had to put it in the master bathroom. YEAAAAAH! I tell you, he had that sucker unwrapped and screwed on before I had a dish in the kitchen. Priorities. I have them. He's trying.

It's just been a joyous addition to my life.
Do you get to hear a whooshing sound when you sit down?
Get to see your indentation after you stand up?
Hear adjusting and wheezing?

I DO. Every time I use the master bath. It's exactly what I always hoped for my life. My Barbie house had a padded toilet seat, too. Really living the dream here. Except not.

And the love he has for it. That's the most concerning.
"Oh, Suz. Yeah. Can you make sure not to use harsh chemicals on the padded toilet seat? The packaging was very clear. It's a delicate surface."

My husband.
An absolute national treasure.

There you have it. I have a padded toilet seat. It's been there a year. And I'm pretty sure there it will stay. Sorry if it bothers you. Sorry if it was TMI. Try and remember it's my life.

At least now I can check this one off the list.

3 comments:

  1. I warned you Susie!! Love, MIL

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  2. Susie, can we cover your hatred of porous surfaces in the bathroom? I would think a piece of foam covered in chemically nonresistant plastic would qualify. Afterall, if light chemicals can damage this material, imagine what gets through to the foam underlay. You know the air that rushes out of the relief holes when you sit down must contain unknown levels of funk. Chuck, I'm sorry, I know how much you loved "Seaty."

    ReplyDelete
  3. Good job with the blog - it looks great! So glad I could help become that much more fabulous (or uncool for doing HTML instead of, ya know, something better...)!

    ReplyDelete

Tell me about it. Oh and thanks for validating my life.

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