The new toilet finally arrived. The ladies are pleased. And a nice thing is that it’s “chair height” – that extra inch and three-quarters is surprisingly comfortable. Especially at our age.
A big plumber showed up and took out the old commode. He picked it up and said, “This is the heaviest one I have ever had to lift.” My wife told him they don’t make them like that anymore.
He then brought in the new one, a tiny little thing. I said, “You’re a big guy for a plumber.” (He stood about six-five.) “Tell me about it,” he replied. “I spent four hours this morning under a kitchen sink.”
The new toilet flushes what seems to be a tiny amount of water, so I don’t think you’d want one if you had teenage boys in the house, but it should meet our needs fine. Because the tank is so much smaller than the old one, the unpainted wall is now exposed. Fortunately, the painters left me the leftover paint so that I can touch this up myself. More problematic is the fact the the foot print of this commode is smaller, so I have a gap between the commode and the edge of the vinyl flooring. The floorers did not leave the extra vinyl, so I don’t have anything to patch it with. I am mulling my options.
Outside the bathroom, we’ve left a short section of the old carpet on the stairs so that our infirm dog can still get up and down. Once she has gone on to the big kennel in the sky, I’ll tear that out and restore the hardwood stairs underneath.