Pot Luck...or Who's Got a Toothbrush?
Oct. 26, 2009 11:54 am
Updated: Nov. 2, 2009 6:16 pm
We moved to the ranch we currently live and work on, almost 4 years ago. After making several trips from CA with our truck and horse trailer full of goodies, we crammed it all into the tiny 100 yr old "cook house" which will be our humble abode and Home Sweet Home for years to come.
Aside from the counter-less kitchen, and the bright turquoise blue 50 yr old linoleum flooring that runs thru every room (complete with bullet holes) it had what can only be described as an "Indoor Outhouse". I have seen nicer bathrooms in gas stations.
This was a 4' x 5' room with a tiny stand up shower, a tiny sink and a non functioning toilet...well...technically it DID work, if you poured a 5 gallon bucket of water in it each visit...which we did when we were too desperate to make across the road to the "bull pen" where there is one bathroom shared by all the cowboys on the ranch. Restroom facilities are not a high priority on a beef ranch, apparently.
At any rate, we had some experiences with this particular little room, during the year and a half we waited for a real one to be added onto the house, that were memorable, if nothing else.
The layout was thus...the door opened IN (bad idea!). Directly in front of the door was the "single anorexic person wide" shower. To the immediate left, was the sink, which usually left a mark as you attempted to step in front of it, and less than a bent knee's distance from that, was the throne.
One fine morning, after a cup of coffee and devotions, there was an urgency for a morning "constitutional"and I raced to the door. I had not noticed that Randyman was no longer sleeping. I breathlessly reached the door and kicked it open, only to send the unsuspecting Randy headfirst into the shower wall, leaving a rather interesting bruise on his backside. I was just really glad he was not attached permanently to the doorknob, as it would make it hard to close, not to mention, hard to explain.
It was an "efficiency room", in other words, one that did not require wasted steps. You could actually wash your face and brush your teeth while still seated. I of course, usually chose not to.
The showerhead was obviously set for a very tall, anorexic person, and was high enough that I could turn about in all four directions without getting wet. Therefore, Randyman, being the thoughtful guy that he is (after forgiving me for the little door faux pas) attached one of those hand held dealy-bobbers so I could aim water wherever I had a whim. Unfortunately, the water pressure blew the whole thing off of the wall at me, causing me to lose my balance in my panicked state, and struck my shoulder on the sink, which caused my tooth brush to sail thru the air, doing a two and a half gainer, only to land, KERPLUNK! in the commode.
I would like to remind the reader at this time, that the store is 5 hours from where we live, and that is where I headed, to buy a CASE of toothbrushes from Costco.
One other memorable experience we had with our least favorite room was when Randyman decided that he could run a hose down the vent, thus clearing it so the commode would work properly without the 5 gallon bucket. He stuffed the hose down the vent and asked me to go in and see if the commode would flush. I stepped thru the front door to find 2 inches of water through out the house, in every room but the bathroom. Apparently there was no flashing around the vent, so the water went directly into the attic, and thru the ceiling onto the floors...so I informed him that NO, the toilet did not flush, but the ceiling seemed to flush very well.
So goes life in the country.