Airing out the toilet

In a couple of my previous entries, I have mentioned my ex-husband, Steve. I have not shared a lot about that marriage and subsequent divorce, mainly because I don't think it's proper to air one's dirty laundry in public. Suffice to say that we were much too young and immature to marry when we did, and although a painful chapter in our lives, it was best that we split up. One great thing to come from our marriage is our son, Jimmy. We have a civil relationship nowadays, because we not only share a son, but also a set of grand-twins. Other good things that came of the marriage are some funny family stories. I'm going to share one of those stories, not about airing dirty laundry, but rather, about airing out toilets.




One day during the first year we were married, my parents invited Steve and I over for a cookout. It was a beautiful summer day and we were in a cheerful mood, looking forward to some good steaks and playing cards.

As we went into the back yard, Steve noticed that one of the toilets from the house was sitting under the birch tree.

"What is the toilet doing out in the yard?" he asked.

I had absolutely no idea why it was there, although I later learned that my dad removed it so he could snake out a foreign object that somehow had been flushed. At the moment, I was as clueless as Steve. However, I was thinking quickly as a flash of deviltry hit me.

"Well, it's out there because my parents are airing it out."

He gave me a blank look. "They're doing WHAT?"

"They're airing out the toilet," I repeated. "Is that so strange?"

Eyeing me suspiciously, he stammered, "Wha... huh...?

"Now, wait a minute Steve. Don't tell me you have never heard of airing out toilets. Every proper housekeeper does it at least once a year for sanitary reasons."

I was on a roll now, so I continued, "I can't believe that your mother, of all people, doesn't air out her toilets regularly!"

To understand the impact of that statement, you need to know a bit about Steve's mother. Not only is she a fastidious housekeeper, she is an obsessed housekeeper! If there are truly any floors that can be eaten off of, hers would be the ones.

With that last comment, I went into the house and left Steve alone to smoke his cigarettes and ponder the situation. Wicked, wicked me, I held out until I reached the hallway of the house, and then fell out laughing, and laughed until the tears were running down my face. Naturally, my parents came to investigate what was going on. I could barely spit out the story, but finally composed myself long enough to tell them about my earlier conversation.

About the time I finished the tale and we all quit laughing, it was time for my dad to start the grill. So, we went back outside to the yard.

A few minutes later, I almost needed to use that toilet in the yard because my mother, obviously spawn of the same devil seed as I, casually remarked to my dad, "Do you think the toilet has aired out long enough?"

My father's good-natured reply was, "I think so. I was planning on bringing in in after supper."

Steve still wasn't convinced that I was telling the truth but, likewise, he wasn't convinced I was lying, either!

Over the next few years, the toilet airing conversation would come up occasionally. Gradually, most of our friends and family heard about it, and one person or another would mention around Steve that they needed to get around to airing out their toilet soon. He was always pretty sure he was receiving a massive leg pulling, but not quite confident enough to call us out on it, lest he end up appearing too ignorant to understand proper sanitation.

That was many years ago, we have been divorced for over 25 years, but it is a favorite family legend.

Oh, pssst... Steve, if you're reading this; it's time to air out the toilet!