Our bathroom remodeling project is a quagmire. It has become so obvious that it can no longer be ignored. Initially, it was an astounding success. The evil bastard plumbing had been in place for over 30 years, slowly choking off the clean water supply, diverting it to the floor, while allowing the critical waste removal system to degenerate.
That's gone now. But the rebuilding is more difficult than we imagined. So many decisions to be coordinated and financed. I insist there be no improvised plumbing devices (IPD) while my husband insists they have their uses. I want the flooring with the 25 year guarantee so we won't have to do this over again in 10. But that's harder to install, says my husband.
Agreeing on the installation of a cabinet?. Well, let's just say that negotiations have been extended for at least a week.
Outside influences with their own agendas are also intruding. His pickup protested the diversion of cash and attention from it to the plumbing by imploding the steering column. The Air Conditioner (this is the South, Air Conditioner is properly capitalized) displayed its ability to adversely affect our lives by freezing up its fan motor.
Not only that, I demand the woman's right to have access to a bathroom on demand be respected here. The stability of our marriage and our property value is being eroded by protesters outside the door of the one functioning bathroom.
"How much longer are you going to be in there?"
"What are you doing in there?"
In case there are any sexists out there thinking women spend too much time in the bathroom, I'm the one standing outside the bathroom door with crossed legs demanding answers. I have absolute oral authority.
Last night, in my dream, Christiane Amanpour was outside our house giving a report of the situation by satellite phone, explaining in detail the lack of facilities here. Inexplicably, she was shivering and her hair was blowing in a nonexistent breeze. Other reporters were calling from their well-plumbed rooms at the Holiday Inn, secure in their ability to flush the truth without actually witnessing it.
On TV, Neil Cavuto and Brenda Buttner were talking about plumbing futures and the rising demand for plumbing in China. They showed appallingly graphic images of lines outside women's restrooms.
There was a knock at the back door. It was Kofi Annan. He was offering a deal. UN Chamber Pots. 50% kickback to him. He was mumbling something about fearing he'd end up without a pot to piss because Claudia Rosett just won't quit.
KBR called, offering a professional crapper prefab unit for $500,000. No bid contract, of course. I explained we only needed a one-holer and could get one for a $1000.
Then I woke up. I had to go to the bathroom. Too many blogs right before bedtime.
ADDENDUM: Maybe I got the title wrong. It should be This is my brain on blogs.
... as far as 'I have a dream' segments go, this one mightn't sell so well, but it is very entertaining.