Our guest bathroom toilet. Oh, our guest bathroom toilet.
It has given us nothing but trouble since we moved here. I think it even clogged on move-in weekend. We have plunged it repeatedly, called plumbers numerous times to unclog it, switched to the cheap toilet paper in that bathroom (a move that nearly elicited mutiny from hubs), everything. Finally, when it clogged the last time, hubs was exasperated enough to demand that we call the plumber to install a new toilet all together.
It was then that I began to suspect. He seemed really happy to be picking out a new toilet. He did all this research online about "power flush" and "low-flow," what brands were good, etc. He went to Lowe's alone one night to buy the new toilet, while I stayed home with booger. I called the plumbers to install it the next day while he was at work.
When the plumbers came, I explained the perennial problems we'd had with the toilet. They snaked a camera down the line and found a small crack in it. Roots had grown into the crack, blocking a good bit of the pipe. The plumber offered to just remove the roots, which would fix the problem, and not worry about installing the new toilet. (After all, it wasn't the toilet that was the problem, it was the roots.) I called hubs to get his opinion before making the decision.
"Well, we've already got the toilet there, anyway. We might as well install it," he said.
"But it's like a $250 toilet or something, isn't it? We could return it and get our money back. The toilet we have is fine," I said.
"I mean, I've already bought it and brought it home. It's a low-flow. It will save us money on our water bill," he replied.
"Will it save us $250?" I asked.
And so on and so forth until I could tell that he really had his sweet little heart set on the new toilet. It oddly reminded me of the time that he said he wanted a new big-screen TV. I told him that the TV we had was working fine, and that, should it break, we could replace it with a bigger one. I swear to God that a mere month or two later, the TV was mysteriously "broken." (At the time, I even wondered aloud if he'd been up in the night, hitting it with a baseball bat.) Hubs called a friend, hauled the old TV to the dump, and bought the flat-screen 42-inch plasma of his dreams.
Realizing that I am no match for such cunning, I had the plumbers clean out the roots and install the new toilet. Then I called hubs and promised that I'd let him have the inaugural flush when he got home.