The Super Bowl revisited

I had two thoughts about a blogpost on Super Bowl Sunday.

First was sit down and create an entirely new post that would have humor, pathos, and speak to sportsmanship and the game as a metaphor for life.

Second, I thought I could just recycle a post I'd already written and crack open a cold one.

Guess which one I chose?

I've written a few times about the Super Bowl, here and here for example. But there's another post I had about it, one that expresses a universality we can all relate to. That speaks to an experience we've all had and continue to have on a daily basis.

And most importantly, again, means I don't have to come up with a new one.

So have a seat and take a read. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll wonder where I came up with the phrase "toilet envy."

Please to enjoy.

Own a home, and you'll find yourself shopping for things you never shopped for before.

Like a new toilet.

Now, I've never been a toilet connoisseur. More of a journeyman really, just using whichever one happened to be available at the moment. You know, "the moment."

But my house has three bathrooms and four people, so the law of averages had to catch up eventually. Since the toilet in our master bathroom has decided to take a leak of it's own all over the floor every time it's flushed, it was time to aquaint myself with the plumbing section at Lowe's.

After some serious research, including what I'll call "faux test drives", this is the one that bowled me over. Yeah, I said it.

It's the Kohler Memoirs Comfort Height Toilet with Stately Design.

And why shouldn't a toilet be stately?

Now that I'm forced to actually give thought to it, turns out there are some things I don't like about the toilet I have, and some features I want in a new one.

For starters, I want one that feels like a La-Z-Boy recliner. Something comfortable. Something I can spend a lot of time on. After all, it's not just a toilet. It's also a reading chair.

One of the many reviews I've read said, "Looks good and flushes well." If only we could all say that about ourselves.

I also like the comfort height. I'm not potty training anymore, I've got it down pretty good. So I don't want to feel like I'm sitting on a trainer. And sometimes, those few seconds you save not having to situate yourself so far down make the difference between, well, they make the difference.

The only thing I don't like about this big, tall, comfortable crapper is the price. It's anywhere between $750. and $1000. depending where I buy it. Not including what it'll cost me to have it installed.

I feel a bit embarrassed about being so excited about this purchase. However that embarrassment is trumped by the cases of toilet envy I know I'll be creating once everyone who visits our house spends a little quality time with the new Kohler.

Toilet envy. Yeah, I said it.

Go fish

This reminds me a little bit of Edvard Munch's famous painting, The Scream. Except, you know, with a fish.

The goldfish you're looking at above is Kenny. I don't know how long we've had him. All I know is I try to have as little as possible to do with him.

For starters, I'm a dog person not a fish person (or a bird person - saving that for another post). I also went through the fish faze (see what I did there?) when my kids were younger.

We had goldfish won at school fairs. A couple we picked up at the aquarium side of Petco. They lived in big bowls like Kenny. And if they lived long enough to grow larger, which a few of them did, we bought small aquariums with filters and little Diver Dan statues for them to swim through and around.

I was hoping that like Barney and the Wiggles, the kids would eventually outgrow goldfish. After all, they're older now and they don't seem that emotionally attached to him. But the second I mention getting rid of Kenny, I get a firm "No!" from everyone else in the house.

So Kenny swims to see another day.

I can't help feeling bad for him. I keep thinking he must be lonely, all by himself in that big jar. And depending what kind of cooking we're doing and how much of the kitchen counter we're using, his home can get relocated under a cabinet where it doesn't get much sunlight.

Apparently none of this seems to bother him. He just keeps swimming around his jar, recognizing me in my black t-shirt, and giving me those big wide eyes that say, "What's a fish gotta do to get fed around here?".

As predictable as I can be, I know the kind of jokes you're expecting right about now. How he never went to school. How I bought him for a fin. How he's been drinking all day, but it'd kill him to stop. I also had a few Nemo jokes, but I can't find them right now (I'll be here all week. Tip your waitress).

I'm sure at some point, like dozens of goldfish before him, we'll wind up relocating Kenny to a part of the room with more light and counter space.

Or the toilet.