How to Install a Toilet, a Helpful Guide.

Me, on the roof with a chainsaw,
the week before roof guy came over.

Step 1 (toilet minus six weeks):  Wonder where that stain on the kitchen ceiling came from.  Discuss it with your boyf, who calls a roof guy.  Work from home one day so roof guy can come by, reseal the vent thing on the roof and while he’s at it fix some other little stuff on the roof and the porch.  While he’s there, go outside and make small talk about  how you’re glad he’s there to fix it, and how the cats are super interested in all these outside noises.  Have him point and laugh at the cat in the window, and say something like, “Ha, he wants to help!  Ha!  And you can help too!  Ha!  Because it's just as silly! Get it?  Because women can't do stuff on roofs or with tools! HA HA HA!”  

Go back inside.  

Step 2 (toilet minus four weeks):  Realize the stain has spread, and there’s a new one.  Point it out to boyf, saying "Something must still be wrong."  Boyf says, that’s always been there.  Point out that it hasn’t. 

Step 3 (toilet minus three weeks):   Hear boyf, who has kilzed the water stain, which immediately reappears, say “Huh!  Something must still be wrong!” 

Turn water off on the toilet immediately above the stain. 

Step 4 (toilet minus two weeks):  Boyf goes to get new toilet, and ask about installation.  Turns out the toilet itself costs less than the installation, which boyf decides is dumb.  Boyf calls, and is like it’s dumb, right?  We can just do that, right?  HARD YES LET'S DO THIS.

 Step 5 (toilet minus ten days): Bring toilet home, to live in the garage as it slowly acclimates itself to its new environment.  Toilets are sensitive, like fish and all the stuff I never unpacked when I moved in, and must be eased into their new homes. 

Step 6 (toilet minus one day):  Get home from work.  Take that first deep breath of “Home!!!!!” because I actually am home after work, which has been rare recently.  Boyf points out that it’s toilet day.  I make this face:

He is correct, though; he talked to me about it earlier (say, in the last 10ish days, probably multiple times), and asked when I had time to get the new toilet in.  Thing is, life has been balls-out non-stop hectic since like….January.  Last weekend I was in my own house only to sleep.  Monday I had a thing.  Tuesday I babysat.  Wednesday I had a nerd meeting.  Friday I’m meeting friends after work.  Saturday I’m going to a graduation and learning to sew.  Sunday is Mother’s Day.  We have to get this toilet in cuz his son is coming to stay with us soon and he needs a place to put his poops.  So Thursday is toilet day, and this is Thursday.  I now make this face:

We take the toilet upstairs.  On the outside of the toilet box is a handy check list of things you need to install it.  It is the first time we have noticed this list.  We do not have the things.  (Didn't see that one coming, did you, Reader?)  

For the love of God, pleaaaase

I make a hard sell case for, look we got it upstairs which is like half the battle, and there is absolutely no chance that I am leaving the house so any trip to the toilet installation supply store will be a solo run, and what if I don’t go out with my friends tomorrow, and instead we handle this project not-right-now. 

He agrees, on the condition that we watch a YouTube video on how to install a toilet, since to this point we have done absolutely no research.  I agree, we watch this helpful video.  It is very instructive and has snazzy between-scene effects like pieces of the screen flipping over like tiles.  I highly recommend it.  I text my friends that I am a jerk and not joining them the next night.  I spend my night not doing things I really need to get done.

Step 7 (toilet day):  

Give up on writing out numbers for each of these steps.

Turns out it was mostly just a putty knife
and some other stuff we had around the house. 
We totally could have done this on Thursday.

Get done with work. 

Put on pajamas.

Take newly acquired toilet tools upstairs. 

Put on latex gloves because obviously.

Decide not to rewatch the how-to video, but also not to look at the instructions.

Carefully rip leaking toilet out of the bathroom, only almost ruining the linoleum.  Toilets are stuck to the ground with wax, which is brown and gooey in a way that makes you really uncomfortable and you wonder why they couldn’t have gone blue or something  Then you realize that brown is a choice that allows you to overlook the grossness of that is actually happening here, since everything you are touching that is brown and gooey can be conceived of as wax.  Get the old wax off as best you can, but definitely don’t do anything like clean the ring of lint and hair that clearly defines where the old toilet sat.  Assume the new toilet will have the same footprint.

Unbox the new toilet, but do not in any way catalog the pieces, because you already know what you’re doing, you watched a video for crying out loud.

Put the new wax down, and the screws, and the new toilet base on it. 

Realize the new toilet has a different footprint than the old one.  Simultaneously realize you don't care.  Surf on the new toilet to properly seal the new wax (toilet surfing is a real thing and if you had watched the video you would know that, Reader).  Then screw the base into the floor with the washers and butterfly nuts that came with it.  Realize you are

using the wrong butterfly nut.  Realize you have used the wrong washers.  Take it back apart, but also still don’t look at the instructions to be sure you’re doing it right, or have used all the right pieces in the right order this time.  Realize you didn’t put the little plastic things down that the nut-hiders clip onto so your guests aren’t scandalized by the pig sty you make them squat in.  Briefly get the instructions out and handle your ish correctly.  Toss the instructions away again.

Put the big rubber thing on the tank, and the tank on the back of the base, and screw it on with the remaining washers and butterfly nuts.  You are sure these are correct, because they are the only ones left, but also you don’t check, because, again, you watched a video. 

When one washer won’t go on, get really mad at it.  Call it choice words.  Realize you bent the washer when screwing it onto the wrong part of the toilet earlier, and decide the best next choice is to hammer it flat again and then maybe the sorry little snit will work.  It won’t.

Look for other washers in the house, find one, and make an executive decision that it’s good enough. Install the tank.  

Baaaaarely attach the water hose because you didn’t measure anything at any point in this process and it was REAL CLOSE to being a Situation, Reader, but by the skin of your teeth, it reaches.   Realize you have some pieces left that you don’t know what they are and casually glance over the instructions just for funsies.  Identify the left-over pieces.  Sigh.  Have to loosen the tank back off so you can put rubber bumpers in between the tank and the base. 

The tiny rubber lines between us and the barbarian hordes.

Eeeeee!!!

Hold your breath and turn on the water.  Watch the tank fill up and realize there’s beauty there.  Flush the new toilet with childlike awe.  Check the floor for water seepage or drips.  Flush it again.  Rejoice, because the toilet is flushing and no water appears to be leaking onto your floor.  Chest bump, fist bump, high five, and generally celebrate because you DID IT and you are DONE!!!

Turn around and realize you have a dirty old toilet sitting in your landing.

Goddammit.

Realize this toilet has juuuuust a little bit of toilet water left in it.  Realize there is no way to handle that water upstairs.  Sigh again.

Carefully carry the toilet down stairs and outside, dripping toilet water on yourself, the carpet, and your soul the whole way.  Consider what it would do to property values if you just left it in the yard, or better yet, turned it into a planter.  Consider if the trash collectors will notice that you are slowly putting pieces of toilet into your garbage each week.  Decide to just let it live in the garage, to acclimate itself to its new life, and go wash your hands for seven minutes in scalding water.  Call dibbs on first sit on the new throne.

Nailed it!