I want to murder my toilet. Lately, it has decided to go rogue and do everything it’s not supposed to do. One day, I’ll open the lid in hopes of (ahem) “dropping the kids off at the pool,” and see that there is absolutely no water in it. Then a couple days later, right when I finish taking a tinkle at two in the morning, my cup runneth over because it has decided to compensate for its lack of water last week. I can hear my toilet bowl laughing at me as I clean my flooded bathroom and I realize I only have about four more hours of sleep until I have to get up again.
At times it chooses to withhold its flushing abilities as well. Its handle limps uselessly and flaccidly as I try to jiggle it to oblivion with the hopes that merely willing it to work will be the trick that does it (although it wouldn’t be my first time if you know what I mean! Zing!) Other times, preferably when I’m showering right next to it, my toilet decides to flush out of nowhere. Not only must I recover from the heart attack I just suffered believing that a robber who has a penchant for flushing the toilets of his victims was inside my apartment, I must also deal with the scalding hot water that is setting fire to my skin. These days, I just want to sledgehammer this porcelain god into pieces.
And it’s such a shame too, considering we had so many good times. Why, I remember the night I got sick from eating too many apples (and by eating I mean drinking, and by apples I mean Lychee coolers*). I must admit that from this white throne of mine, many columns were formulated, many books were read and many magazine quizzes were filled out (by the way, my flirting style is “seductress“).
I just have to learn to let go. Then again, that’s the thing with failed relationships (how’s that for a rough segue?). Somewhere down the road it just stops working and no amount of “remembering the good times,” is going to help fix it. Just like me and my toilet – sooner or later, the shit’s just going to keep piling up. And it’s not just about personal relationships; I’m talking about quitting that job you hate or kicking that lame-ass friend to the curb.
Recently, I’m starting to believe in the awesomeness of shedding off the dead weight in one’s life. I’m a neophyte of doing away with things that aren’t working for me. I blame it on the fact that I’m a senior. Suddenly, things that waste your time (when you don’t have much time anymore to be an irresponsible twentysomething) are easier to spot. And instead of talking it out or waiting for things to change, it’s much easier to just accept things and people for what they are and then decide not to be any part of it.
Last year, I quit this summer job I absolutely detested. It was data entry, which basically meant I copied and pasted numbers from one Excel sheet to another for five hours. This one coworker there graduated from the University of Douchington, which evidently entitled him to tell me that I was doing my job inefficiently (apparently, there is an even better way to press the control and V keys).
My boss, who was pleasant in all other aspects, really liked to take the meaning of our menial tasks seriously – to the point where I thought that if I didn’t get these numbers in by 4 p.m., Wall Street really would need to shutdown. In case some future employer is reading this, I assure you that I did my job well enough; I just hated every minute of it. It was like Office Space except it was real life and there was no Ron Livingston to charm the pants off of you.
Then one day, after my coworker snidely noted that my lunch breaks were getting a bit long, I decided to quit. I told my boss that something serious came up (always say “family problems” – it stops people from prying almost immediately) and that a reference was not needed. It was the best I felt the entire time I was there. Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” was literally playing in my head the entire ride home.
I’m not saying I’m the most emotionally sound girl there is. In high school, when my affections for a guy went unreciprocated, I would be devastated. I still think that girl is in me (the one who’d fall in love with any decent looking guy that held the door for her) but to a lesser extent. I guess you could say I’ve grown up? But only a little. In a few months time, I will have conquered college, and that feels pretty rad. I think that experience has made me raise some sort of standard with the things and people that are allowed to stay in my life. And if something doesn’t make the cut? Well then, I can just flush it down the toilet.
LYNN LA says ‘sups? to Sophia’s for making *the best damned mix drink there ever was. When she leaves this town, she’ll definitely miss it. If you know the recipe, e-mail her at firstname.lastname@example.org so she can press charges the next time she eats too many apples.