Earlier this week, I went to my employer's home to do some preliminary work for a project we're doing on the Left Coast next week. While there, I had to make use of the facilities, because, well, that happens when you chug Diet Coke all day like they announced they stopped making it.
I wandered into the bathroom, closed the door, and lifted the lid to the toilet. The lid went FLYING and *CRASH clattered to the floor. "Ouch," I said, although the injury was more psychic than physical.
My boss was in the next room over, and heard the whole thing. I walked out and explained to him that I had, er, broken his toilet. Here we commence the laughing. The laughing continued for some time.
He was able to fix it with just a small amount of effort... and then asked if he could tell my co-worker downstairs.
"Sure," I shrugged. Why should I mind?
But... then he mentioned later about telling the story to one of my customers... which means he'll tell it to ALL of my customers...
Oh, the indignity. Remind me next time to cool it on the soda.
My kitchen is: Very bad, as these things go. I simply haven't had the internal reserves to draw on for cleaning up this week. I don't suppose any of you wants to come over and clean my house?
Posted by andrea at August 28, 2004 12:23 PM