So, this remodeling project has finally gotten on my last nerve. For the last three days (don't laugh), hubby and I have been trying to re-install our toilet. We didn't want to call a plumber because that would've been, well, stupid, seeing as how we're gutting and remodeling our master bath in a couple of months. (the current project is more focused on our room and office, while the bath is merely getting a facelift (i.e. paint, and spring cleaning of sorts).
Well,several days ago, the, ahem, "facelift" somehow morphed into a full-on rage-fueled sprint to insanity, perpetrated by a fill valve that broke when I snapped it in half in anger over another piece that would not budge. So, after the valve broke, I had to replace it, naturally...only the original nut was so shredded, it took many many curses and rants to remove it, which we could only do by removing the toilet. Hence the blackout rage that found this toilet laying helplessly on its side in our shower. Yup, I tore the toilet off the floor in a who-decided-to-leave-such-a-small-gap rage blackout. See, the toilet is so close to the wall that it's impossible to reach, much less see, under the damn thing to remove the nut thingy that holds the fill valve in place. So, with the toilet off, I stared down into this dark, deep, fume-infested hole in the floor, and all I could think was, "WHAT IN THE HELL IS THAT SMELL?"
Thanks to YouTube, I found out it was the sewer pipe that, well, you know, never makes anyone smile.
So I go to our storage shed to find the right wrench, because heaven forbid the right one would be in the toolbox that I'd already tossed around numerous times in yet another fit of rage looking for the right tool. Low and behold, as I stepped into the shed, I was greeted by creepy-as-hell array of godzilla eyes, all of which were staring back at me, letting me know I was now invading their dank home. I could just feel them there, conspiring...yes waiting to pounce (another story about my lizard phobia, for another time). So, after begging them to allow me two lizard-free minutes in the shed, I open the cabinet and stood there, absolutely marveling at the cornucopia, dare I say it, the buffet of tetanus that was just itching to fill my life with memorable amounts of pain and metallic suffering.
**Yes, I'd love a finger-sliced off by the ever-popular and super-fun ancient hacksaw sitting there with the old utility knife, and I'd also like a side of rusty nails just for sh*ts and giggles. You know, in case the first two options don't do me in.**
So, tools in hand, I headed back to the house, where we spent the rest of the day (and most of today, mind you) trying to put that damnable toilet back in place. End-result, the toilet refused to stop rocking back and forth with every attempt we made to secure it in place with the "sure-fire-fix" items I was sold at Home Depot during my five visits there in the last two days. It all came to a screeching halt when we both threw up our hands to the porcelain devil. Yes, Hubby screamed at the toilet for its mere existence. I screamed at the ceiling as I mentally targeted the abomination that originally installed this god-forsaken torture device that will forever be known as the devil of toilet-gate.
Needless to say, we've decided to extend this remodeling non-party to the bathroom, which will officially be gutted and remodeled NOW, not in a couple of months. Until then, we're forced to use any of the other three bathrooms in the house, none of which are close to our bedroom.
Oh, will this hell ever end????!!!!