Eliminating the Need for Toilet Paper

Recently, my parents decided to make a very wise decision and sell their 100 year old house and buy a townhome. I call this a very wise decision because their current home, while beautiful, would not be livable if one of them were to have significant health and/or mobility problems. Their house had many wonderful quirks found in all old homes, but most importantly, did not have a bedroom or a full bathroom on the main floor. At 68 and 63 years of age, my parents needed to think about these things.

So, they put their house on the market and purchased townhome which was built in 2001. I saw it for the first time this weekend on their final walk through before taking possession later this week. It is much better for their needs - the main level has the living room, dining room, kitchen, master bedroom, laundry, and a study. Therefore, if they needed to, they could live on the main floor.

When most people purchase a home in their 60s, they downsize. Not my parents. The townhouse has the same square footage as their old house. However, my mother was quick to point out one major difference, saying, "The new house has five bathrooms. But one of them is completely unnecessary."

One of the five bathrooms is completely unnecessary?

Yes, sometimes my parents' view of the world is a little skewed.

Anyway, I got a first hand look at these five bathrooms over the weekend. In the end, there are only three full bathrooms and two half baths. And given the layout of the house, it makes sense why someone would want a bathroom in each location. However, the fact that many people (such as myself) make do with just one full and one half bathroom, suggests that five bathrooms is a little excessive.

But there's more . . . these potties are not just holes in the floor with a nearby sink. Oh no. They feature the latest in bathroom technology and I'm not talking about double sinks and pool-sized bathtubs. I'm talking about high-tech toilets.

Now, from first glance, these toilets don't make a big impression. But, while we were touring the house, my daughter had to pee. So, I helped her sit on the toilet. Immediately, she said, "It's HOT, Mama!!" I looked at her and said, "Don't be silly, it's not hot." She insisted that it was and the real estate agent said, "Oh, she must be talking about the heated toilet seat."

WTF? Come again? Heated Toilet Seat?

It seems my parents have purchased a townhome with the latest in toilet technology - the TOTO Washlet Toilet. And yes, this toilet seeks to eliminate the need for toilet paper. How, you ask? Well, let's take a look at its features and maybe you will get the picture:

Auto Flush
Auto Seat Open and Close
Rear Cleanse (yes, as in your rear)
Soft Cleanse
Front Cleanse
Oscillating Cleanse
Pulsating Cleanse
Heated Water (for the cleansing)
Water Pressure and Temperature Control
Water Position Adjustment
Air Purifier
Air Jet Dry

I haven't tried it yet. My dad said he's afraid to try it. My mom tried it and she found it very "refreshing." I chalk that up to the fact that she was raised in Europe.

However, upon further consideration, I think a TOTO toilet would be the answer to my cat-eating-toilet-paper problem. On the other hand, I don't think I want my va-jay-jay "air jet" dried.

The Punishment Doesn’t Fit the Crime

I’ve been having a craptacular week. Just one thing after another after another. Mostly work related, but there has been some personal crap too. On Tuesday, I came home to find a yellow piece of paper stuck in my front door. It was from an animal control officer. It said, "Please contact our office no later than 8-21-08 at 5:00 regarding the following item(s). Failure to do so will result in legal action."

My crime? "Rabies vaccination and/or registration of cat. Ticket will be issued." Great.

I’ll readily admit I haven’t always gotten my cat vaccinated for rabies in a timely manner. He is an indoor only cat. He never goes outside, except for the few times he tricks a new person into leaving the front door open too long. Then he runs out and flops on the nearest driveway. And stays there until I go pick him up and carry him back to the house. The only rabid animal he is in danger of being bitten by is my dog and she always gets her yearly rabies vaccination.

It is not that I care more for my dog than I care for my cat. They irritate me equally. However, it is much easier to get the dog to the vet than it is to get the cat to the vet. The dog hops in the back seat and is happy on a leash. The cat never goes outside and would probably maim me if I put him on a leash. And, for some reason, I no longer have a cat carrier, so transporting the cat to the vet is an issue. But, I guess the rabies vaccination police don’t consider all those factors when issuing tickets.

I decided that it was probably time to get him vaccinated anyway, just to avoid any legal unpleasantness. (I mean, you never know what they'll take away your law license for these days.) I called my vet and checked to make sure I was actually late on the vaccination - just checking if the animal control people were yanking my chain. She said, "Well . . . it has been awhile. The last one he got was in October of 2005. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten you before!" OK, so I missed two vaccinations (2006 and 2007), which sounds a whole lot better than saying it has been three years since he was vaccinated.

I said, "I don’t really know how to get him there - I don’t have a carrier anymore." She replied, "Oh, just put him in a pillowcase . . . just don’t tie a knot in it."

Oh yeah, because that will make him even happier to go to the vet. I swear, I would not want to be the one taking him out of the pillowcase.

Anyway, I borrowed a cat carrier, made the appointment for this morning, went on my merry way, still having a shitty week. Then I got the ticket in the mail last night. I was assuming that, since the rabies tag fee is $12 for neutered cats, that the ticket might be two or three times that amount - like between $25 and $35. That’s not too painful, I thought. I’ll just be better about remembering next time.

The ticket was $100.

$100

Holy crap. I almost fell off my chair. And that’s only if I: (1) admit my guilt and (2) pay the fine before my court date. Otherwise, I can go to court, plead guilty, and pay $115. Or, I can proceed to a bench trial and probably get fined three times that amount for wasting the court’s time. No wonder they are going after these horrible rabies vaccination offenders. Cold hard cash.

Of course, that doesn’t count the money I have to pay to actually get him the rabies shot. There is a $12 fee to the County, a $40 fee for the well-cat exam, a $10 fee for the rabies vaccine, and $20 for the distemper vaccine. So that’s $82 in addition to the ticket. My cat cost me $182 today. I’m seriously considering taken him off Iams and switching to Meow Mix.

Then again, let’s do the math. If I was keeping up on the vaccinations, he would have cost me $82 in 2006, $82 in 2007, and $82 in 2008. That equals $246, which is obviously more than $182. So, by breaking the law, I actually saved $64. I’m not sure how much deterrence there is in this sentence. Don't tell animal control . . . .

Furthermore, almost everyone I have talked to says one or all of their animals is not up on their rabies vaccinations. My parents said they didn’t think their recently deceased cat had ever had a rabies vaccination after she came home from the shelter. My dad said he was worried that they would make him get her a rabies shot before they agreed to put her to sleep. (They didn't, but doesn't that just seem like something the government would do? Make you protect your cat from disease before having it killed?)

I'm not planning on doing the "layaway" version of feline rabies vaccinations again in the future, however. Apparently, the fine goes up upon your second offense. I bet there is even a three strikes law. For the third offense, you go to jail for life. This is a serious crime, people. You better watch yourselves.

Who's Next?

Katie's latest post about her boyfriend joining the blogging world got me thinking: Which one of my household members will be the next one to start a blog?

I'm sure my two year and a half year old daughter's blog would be called "Tales of a Misunderstood Drama Queen." She would post daily, of course, to maximize the number of hits and the amount of attention. Her posts would include:

Monday Fun: how to convince your preschool teachers and mother you have fractured your knee and can no longer walk and must be carried around school and home for 24 hours.

Tuesday Follow-up: how to be extra cute and charming after doctor's appointment for said knee "injury" to avoid punishment for Monday Fun.

Princess Debate: Who's better - Cinderella or Belle?

IT'S CIRCLE TIME, DAMN IT!

My TOY, MINE!!

My 16 month old son's blog would be entitled, "Balls, Buses, and Bubbles" because those are his three favorite words. His posts would include:

My Favorite Things - Balls, Buses, and Bubbles

Why it is so Funny when I Stick My Finger Up My Mama's Nose!

Admit it, I'm Cute!

Ode to Goldfish Crackers

BUUUUUBBBBLE! BUUUUUBBLE!

The dog's blog would be called, "Because I Can and You Would if You Could." She wouldn't post that often because it would interfere with her nap schedule, but here are a few:

The Squirrel Conspiracy

What the Hell Did I Eat Last Night?

Out!

Principles of Strategic Shedding

Why the Postman is Evil and Must Be Destroyed

The cat probably wouldn't lower himself to blogging, but if he did, it would be called, ". . . And Your Little Dog Too!" His posts would be full of swear words and rants against "the establishment" and include:

Who are These People and Why are They Touching Me?

Why I am Better than the Rest of You

How Hard is It to Keep My Food Bowl FULL!?!?!

Wow. It is probably a good thing I have a laptop that is on a high shelf. Of course, since none of them can type, all of the entries would look like this:

s DUH;W8Q NAe f;o234q
sakjdf 23489 sdflgmj awer:oGT DFHP0ERU9QT
SDM,C WE4R9 ERGDK ;F VMWE R9-2 TNFGS
hklsdf 394t sdakl erg12=4 daf; a)tre xbg
qw[ kpSDF ;94T'KDAFGq912-]94813
RSDFAGsdf w3rt9hn ;sdf awrfolwet n'ujio

I think I am safe for now.

I Just Wanted to Roast a Chicken

Since yesterday was a holiday, I decided to make one of my favorite cold weather comfort foods - roast chicken. Well, one of my favorite comfort foods that my 13 month old will also eat. I put the chicken in at 4 pm, so it would be ready by 5:30 (we are early eaters in my house since bedtime has been moved up to 6:30.) All was going well until I went into the kitchen at 5:15 to check on the chicken.

My kitchen is not terribly large (about 12' x 12') but a good size for a house built in 1941. But it feels really small when one is contending with all of the chicken-roasting chaos in my house. First, there is the cat. The cat usually keeps to himself and isn't much of a food-beggar. Unless I am roasting chicken. Then he wanders around the main floor meowing in this really low pitched voice. He walks in circles and drools (I kid you not, he drools). He rubs himself on every available surface, including my legs. This means I trip over him or just plain kick him at least once during the roasting process.

Second, there is the dog. She is also enamored of roast chicken, but she has an approach-avoidance complex regarding the actual roasting. She desperately wants to be in the kitchen to smell the lovely roasting smells and to be there to catch any loose pieces that might randomly fall off the chicken. However, she is scared to death of the overhead oven fan, which has to be on during the roasting. So, the dog stands in the hallway entrance to the kitchen and sticks her nose as far in as she can without her feet entering the room. Then she bobs and weaves in the doorway in the hopes of sniffing the best sniffs without being attacked by the fan. Then she moves to the dining room entrance and repeats the move. Then back to the other entrance (the long way - through the living room, of course - she can't step foot in the kitchen). The dog also thinks it is necessary to attack the cat when he gets too close to the chicken because the cat might steal her fortuitous piece of chicken when it drops to the floor.

The cat and the dog I can usually handle. However, adding in a 13 month old toddler to the mix pushed me over the edge. My son has just learned to walk well (after weeks of launching himself between walls and furniture) and he practices his new skill whenever awake. He also likes to be near me, which is fine, unless I am opening a 400 degree oven to check on the chicken.

Yesterday, I also discovered my son has an intense love of caramel corn flavored rice cakes. He stands in front of the cabinet where he knows they are stored and begs for them. And he has a very specific way of eating them. After I give him half a rice cake, he holds it in both hands and kind of licks/sucks all of the edges while constantly rotating it in his sticky little hands. After it is good and juicy, he continues to rotate it while taking little nibbles off of the edges. All of this must be accomplished while walking in circles and humming.

So, it is 5:15 and time to check the chicken. The dog is bobbing and weaving in the doorway. The cat is rubbing himself on the oven and sitting like a prairie dog to see inside. The toddler is walking in circles behind me and humming. I don my oven mitts. Using one leg to keep my son away from the oven and one arm to keep the cat away from the oven, I balance myself and reach in to poke the chicken thighs. Clear juice runs out, so we are done.

Now comes the tricky part. I really need two hands to take the chicken out. I give the cat one good shove so he is out of the way while keeping one leg out to protect the toddler. I reach to grab the chicken. The dog is still bobbing and weaving. I have the chicken halfway to the stove top and I am using a foot to shut the oven door. At that moment, my son tips over from dizziness and drops his rice cake. The dog forgets the fan and lunges for the rice cake, believing it is a chunk of chicken just for her. The dog knocks over the toddler, the cat rushes in to claim the piece of "chicken" on the floor, the toddler bumps his head on the floor, the dog snaps at the cat and eats the rice cake whole, and I lose my balance just as I place the chicken on the stove top. My feet slip out from under me, I hit my elbow on the not-quite-closed oven door, and my butt hits the floor.

My son is screaming (mostly because the dog ate his rice cake, the head bump wasn't that bad), the cat freaks out and runs upstairs (good riddance), and the dog retreats to the doorway. I crawled over to my son to comfort him, but he just points at the rice cakes. I struggle to my feet, hand him another rice cake and he stops crying. I lay back down on the kitchen floor and think seriously about spending the night in a hotel. By myself.