more specifically… what not to do in someone’s HOUSE FOR SALE.
I would be impressed if you guys remembered the last time we went house hunting, and how we walked into a farmhouse where they had a fairly inebriated game of poker going on and dirty dishes and beer bottles piled throughout the kitchen.
I would be super impressed if you remember that epic moment our realtor went to show us the bathroom and our entourage walked in on a man (ahem) going number two.
(The most surreal part was that the dude didn’t even look surprised. Never said a word. Disturbing on so many levels).
Well, we are back into house-hunting and more mortifying experiences. Except… yours truly was the unintended victim of bathroom trauma.
And get this? The SAME realtor.
(We have to keep her forever and ever… she knows too much.)
So we happily start exploring this no-dirty-dishes-no-beer-bottles beautiful space when Mr. Daddy hears nature’s call. He heads for the bathroom while the rest of us chase a manic Itty Bit through the house.
(seriously… what is it with kids and empty houses?)
After another half hour of real-estate talk, I realize that there is no way I can make the drive home without a bladder emergency.
So I head for the same bathroom without a second thought.
I was missing several important observations.
1. There was no doorknob. This meant that anyone could see me.
2. There were no handles on the sink. No washy-the-hands = eww.
3. The water was shut off.
Of course, all of these things were duly noted much too late. I prayed no one would walk past the see-through door as I peed in record time.
Then I thanked the good Lord there was a random roll of toilet paper on the counter.
Then I zipped up at warp speed and turned to flush.
No stirring of the waters. No sucketh the tinkle away.
Four squares of toilet paper floated in absolute stillness… mocking me.
I closed the lid and begged forgiveness of the next house hunters.
And reached for the sink handle.
Which… only existed in my assumptions.
So I finally gave up… 1000% disgusted that I was leaving a beautiful on-the-market home after desecrating it in such a fashion… and with bathroom hands to boot! UNCLEAN! UNCLEAN!
I snorted in frustration and reached to open the door.
Except… that it was exactly like the unnoticed item #1.
It had a mechanism that actually latched.
As in: one that I had no idea how to UN-latch.
I MacGyvered that thing every way I could think of. And several long moments later, I was accepting the mortification that I would have to try to either somehow escape from a second story window, or holler for the realtor to rescue me.
Y’all remember what happened last time I climbed out a second story window, right?
I had visions of Mr. Daddy unscrewing the hinges off the door to get me out, and I blanched at the thought of the endless Facebook and blog fodder that would give him.
I gave one last try and finally pinched together Part 13P2 and Part Z194 and the latch gave slightly.
It was enough!
I ran down the stairs and tasted sweet freedom and congratulated myself for escaping another family legend in the making.
Except… Mr. Daddy was smirking.
“So… did you see there was no doorknob?
And anyone could look in?”
“Umm… yeah. I saw it too late”.
“Ha! How’d you get out?”
“Ohmygosh – I had to try eleventy things until it opened. Freaked me out. I was about to yell for you guys, but…”
“Ha ha! Did you flush?”
“Umm, no. The water was off.”
“Yeah… you have to turn the water back on…”
“WHAT? You can turn the water on?!?”
“Yeah, it’s the little thing by the floor.”
“Seriously? I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah… I turned it on and flushed, then turned it off again.”
“UGH! I didn’t know that!”
“You mean… you didn’t flush?”
“Well… no. I couldn’t.”
“HA HA HA HA HA! Go flush!”
“I can’t, the house is locked up now.”
I may or may not have put Ex-Lax in his coffee when we got home.