Well, dearies, time to blog again, though I have no topic in mind. Well, toilets, perhaps. You can never go wrong with toilets as a conversation piece, after all.
Work is underway on our bathrooms this week. The subfloors have been replaced by contractor Scott and flooring-layer Ron is here today doing the lino installation. (Everyone is so specialized! And male! And sweaty! Oh, never mind. Grammar's just having an inappropriate moment.) While this goes on, the toilets have been off their moorings and sitting out in the open, which makes it inadvisable to use them. It did enter my head that I should try sitting on one of the thrones whilst it sat in the public hallway so that I might better empathize with how it was for poor Paris in her jail cell. But then I thought, nah. I'm just never going to be an airhead socialite heiress breaking probation conditions. Why should I have to know what it feels like?
Do you know, Blog People, that Retired Husband does not read my blog? This is because he is militantly opposed to blogs in general. The idea that just any crackhead crazyperson on the planet can read personal stuff about other people makes him insane. He is appalled that I blog, no matter how strongly I assure him I am not putting any personal information into the ether. He has advised me that if I ever used his full name or other identifying feature on my blog, he would have to take drastic action. I am left to imagine what form this action might take, but prefer not to find out. Those quiet ones are always the scariest when they blow (our children will vouch for that!)
Oh, dear. I do hope saying that he's quiet is not an identifying feature. A quiet man somewhere on the planet having his bathroom floors fixed by persons named Scott and Ron. Well, it may be too much information, but I think I'll take the risk.