Toilet Karma

People:

All my life, no matter where I’ve lived,  I’ve assumed there were two kinds of people in the world:

  1. People who leave their old toilets in the front yard, and
  2. People who do not.

All my life, I’ve believed I was number 2. But people, that has changed. There’s a toilet in my front yard… and IT’S NOT MINE!

That makes 3 kinds of people, people! And that will not do!

How, how did we come to this lowly state?

Toilet Karma, that’s how.

Let me just back-up a bit — to last week, when I took a walk. Our neighborhood is a mixed one, which here (on the Aegean coast) means “rich folks’ dead-eyed summer villas interspersed with villagers’ honest, lively, chicken-friendly houses.” Sort of a squalid-splendor-meets-splendid-squalor sort of thing.

On my 27-minute walk, I saw 1 cemetery,  8 dogs, 15 cats, about 100 chickens (I lost count), 4 cows, and 3 yard toilets.

3! And not 1 of them had been made into a planter.

Naturally, when the Great Fisherman Boo came home from fishing, I gave him the bad news, never knowing that…

Wait. I’m plunging ahead too fast. Telling, not showing. I forgot the dialog:

Lindy Moone: “I saw three toilets today.”

The Great Fisherman Boo: “What?”

Lindy: “Three! Toilets! In people’s yards!”

The Great Boo: “What do you want me to do about it?”

Lin: “Well, can’t you..? No, no, I suppose you can’t do anything. You can’t even say anything. I just wish they’d at least throw them in the Dumpster.” (Here is where I tell you that we don’t have individual, weekly trash pick-up like most places in the States. We have shared Dumpsters, like the ones apartment complexes have. There’s one in front of our house, emptied daily.)

Boo: “The Dumpster. Yeah.”

L: “Yeah.”

B: “I’m gonna take a shower. You need to pee first?”

Fast forward 2 days, to when I spy the toilet. In our front yard. Next to the (emptied) Dumpster.

Lindy: “Did you say anything to anyone about the toilets?”

Boo: “What do you think? No.”

Lin: “Did you see the toilet? By the Dumpster?”

B: “Yeah.”

L: “The trash guys didn’t take it.”

B: “Nope.”

L: “I guess it would mess up the truck, huh?”

B: “Yup.”

L. “F&*:(!”

B: “I’m gonna take a shower. You need to pee first?”

People: the toilet is still there. That makes 4 toilets on our street, and there is only 1 conclusion to reach:

There are 3 kinds of people in the world:

  1. People who leave their old toilets in the front yard,
  2. People who do not, and
  3. People who need people to remove someone else’s toilet from their front yard.

And I am no longer number 2. I am number 3. And now, as a gift for those of you who stuck to this post to the end, here’s The Big Bang Theory’s take on number 2:

 

 

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10 Comments

Filed under A Process of Elimination, General Mumblings, Two Kinds of People

10 responses to “Toilet Karma

  1. Boy, are you full of shit. :O

  2. I’ve always assumed that there was only one kind of people: Those who don’t leave old toilets in the front yard! Guess I was wrong. =P

    • Sadly, Phoenix, you did not grow up where I did. So much to see, so much to do. While toilets were few and far between, I believe there was a law that when (not if!) you tossed your old fridge out the back, you had to take the door off first, so kids wouldn’t get trapped. You did not see this sort of thing on the main roads, but the back roads were another story.

      Thanks for commenting!
      –Lindy

  3. I had a toilet in my yard (the back yard) for a short while due to remodeling. We had to wait several months until the dump opened up for a free ‘drop off all your big garbage’ day. Thankfully, we have more virgin mary in a bathtub front lawn displays than toilets around here. And tires. It seems tires make nice planters and edging. Or at least some people think so.

  4. sharileewcrc

    Omg! Flashback to lower Lincoln Street. And DeKalb Junction. At one point, I knew a girl who was dating a guy who lived in a box in DeKalb. Life in the North County. Gotta love it!

    • That was definitely summer accommodation — or, quite seriously, a casket. 40 below zero and cardboard are not good bedfellows. I must admit I never saw a homeless person up there. Just too cold. You know, Shari, I’ve always wondered if the beginning of the end of innocence isn’t when children discover sex, or learn about Santa — but when they can’t enjoy a “snowday”, because they know there are people and animals trying to survive out there. (North Country philosophy.)

  5. Pingback: A Tin Soldier Story | Belly-up!

  6. Pingback: A(nother) Tin Soldier Story | Belly-up!

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