The Daily 750

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Testarossas & Toilets

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Last night I dreamed that Josh and I lived in a working class neighborhood of attached brick houses with front porches, characteristic of Baltimore, four doors down from Jessica Simpson and Nick Lachey. I was astride my big-kid-sized plastic red Testarossa, pushing myself along with my feet (in navy blue super Keds), going up to help Nick change the sheets on the pull-out sofa, and saw Buzz Bissinger in an acutal red Testarossa parked by the curb. Buzz said, "Hey, nice day for the convertible, huh." I said, "Oh yeah. I just came back from this great ride up in the hills. Josh pulled me behind the Jag with a rope."

The upstairs Norris has been fixed. But wait, you didn't know it had a problem: for months we've had to hold the handle down for the count of three or five, depending on how impatient we are, to get a full flush. This morning I took off the tank lid and peered inside: What's that? A very, very small cube of white plastic at the bottom of the tank. Roll up my sleeve, retrieve it, toss it in the blue wicker trash basket. Flush. Flushes perfectly. Flush again. Flushes perfectly. Hmmm. Replace the lid. Flush. Have to hold down the handle. I get it: Norris's arm, inside the tank (too bad people don't have retractable arms, it would be so much easier to sleep at night) was bent so that when I flushed with the lid on the tank, the arm touched the top and couldn't lift the flapper high enough to stick for the full flush.

And that explained the very small cube of white plastic, which I retrieved from the blue wicker waste basket and put back in its place with a dollop of clear caulk, on the edge of the top of the tank, to hold up the lid just enough so Norris's arm can raise fully.

I took your suggestions about the American Standard, and also a look at Toiletology 101, and bought it some new, bright blue guts ($7.99 at Freddy's, minus $1 coupon). Stay tuned.