It’s just about bed-time, I’m watching a little YouTube video, when Robbie starts yowling for some more food and Patty wakes up and starts, um, exhorting me to do that–which means I have to clear away some dirty dishes first, and the cat follows me and carries on like she’s on the very brink of starving to death.
No sooner do I get the dishes into the sink when I am subjected to an urgent call of nature which I dare not ignore, despite the protests that ensue when I rush upstairs to the bathroom.
Finished. I flush the toilet. The handle breaks. Yes, it’s 11:30 at night and the fatzing toilet breaks. This leads to a heart-felt soliloquy.
Now it’s the next morning, and by the light of day I see that I can easily fix this myself if I can only get the parts. Voila, we order them online. Meanwhile, to flush the toilet, we have to remove the top, reach inside, and pull the chain that lifts the flapper.
It’s those little irritations in life that drive you freakin’ crazy.