I’m here to write about the fact that yesterday 23 people arrived at our house for Christmas. And to herald that occasion, our toilet stopped working.

Naturally.

Here’s how it went down. (Do you see what I did there?)

It was a busy morning as we prepared to receive 4,334 house guests, and as you could imagine, things were getting chaotic as we cleaned and got things ready. At one point, in a freaky cosmic mash-up the likes of which makes things like sporks and platypuses and Lady Gaga, Anna was flushing the toilet at the precise moment that Tessa recklessly threw a toothbrush into the sink. What happened next was like slow-motion. The toothbrush ricocheted, and we all watched as it landed in the toilet in the precise moment the water went down, down, down.

Ooops.

Not sure if you’ve met me, but I’m not much of a handyman, you see. Here’s a post about when I “fixed” my garbaged disposal. And here’s another about when “I changed a tire.”

So, as you can imagine, my first reaction was to panic needlessly and wonder why life had to be so cruel.

Second, we bribed Viva to reach her hand into the the toilet. As far as possible. Her reward? A piece of candy. (CPS should probably be notified.)

This was unsuccessful.

Then we remembered: Scott is coming.

Scott is Lolly’s brother who is currently getting a PhD in engineering because he’s in love with crazy things like transportation and math and “being all boy” and roller coaster construction and building things and stuff. He is The Chosen One when it comes to things like this in my wife’s family, and now, having married me, he is apparently The Chosen One for the Weed clan as well.

Well either him, or anyone I hire.

Anyway, Scott arrived and got down to business.

His first order of business? Removing the toilet from the floor. I didn’t even know this was a thing that could happen. 


Um, I don’t know about you, but this makes me nervous. Are houses supposed to even be able to do this?

Then he fished out the culprit. He reached his hand up into the toilet and said “All right, I got it!” but turns out, it was actual feces. 
Ooops. I often mistake toothbrushes for feces myself when I’m dismantling homesteads.
And then, he found it!
Triumph!!!

The moral of this story: 
toilets are disgusting
OR
when you have a brother-in-law like Scott, it’s okay to be gay have no handyman skills whatsoever
OR
houses are not as solid and impenetrable as you think they are if toilets can just be removed at the drop of a hat

OR
Beware little pink penguin toothbrushes. You never know the havoc they can wreak.
Evil, thy name is Pink Penguin Toothbrush
All in all, we’re just glad that the four million people at this house have our toilet back in order, because that could have been very, very interesting otherwise. A Christmas miracle!
And, finally, are you doing anything on Christmas Eve?
No?
Perfect! You should come see me play the violin. 
Here are the details. 
I would be tickled if you came. And I’d be even more tickled if you introduced yourself.

All right folks. It’s time for me to go be with family and such. 

Oh, yes, and coming soon: our fourth annual electronic holiday card!!!
Laterz, y’all.