In the course of the giant toilet paper crisis of 2020, we put hose-style bidets on all three of our toilets. I thought of it as a way to survive sans TP until people got a grip on life (again), but these bidets turned out to be a fantastic investment. Everyone loves them. We are all cleaner and fresher. I dread being anywhere where the bathrooms don’t have a bidet — which in the U.S. is pretty much everywhere.
Recently, we installed a new toilet in the half-bath adjacent to our “master” bedroom. It’s a tiny room containing a toilet, sink, and my medicine cabinet, but it’s good to have a convenient place to go when Garry is in the shower or shaving or whatever it is he does in the bigger bathroom.
I love the bidets. They have turned out to be a dramatic improvement in the quality of “that part” of our lives. So, when we installed a new toilet, I replaced the bidet with a new one with an simpler on/off valve.
Picture this. It’s late in the evening. I’m in my half-bath, hose in hand, washing out the john until … I saw the fly. Buzzing around the bathroom! No flies in MY room! In a fit of mindless distraction and despite the live hose in my hand, I turned from my cleansing operation to THE FLY.
In the flash of a nanosecond, there was water everywhere. It’s amazing how much water you can spray in one or two seconds. It was on the walls, mirror, and floor. It also got one of the bulbs on my medicine cabinet which promptly exploded. BANG. One bulb down, three to go.
The explosion reminded me to turn off the hose. I’m not sure what I was thinking or if I was thinking. Was I planning to attack the fly with the water? Or was I totally distracted? Both? One way or the other, the explosion reminded me I should turn OFF the hose. It’s just the flick of a finger, mind you. Not complicated, but that stupid fly was still buzzing around.
I didn’t mind cleaning the wall, the mirror — and the floor can always use a wash, but I think the bulb is gone for good. I eventually got the fly, but I probably need a new medicine cabinet.