Flushing now means plunging my hand into a tank of ice-cold water to pry the rubber stopper up myself (I tried using wooden spoons, but they kept snapping) This has caused me to adopt a "If it's yellow let it mellow" attitude, remembered from back in the 90's when New York was facing drought. I'm fairly certain that this would not fly with civilized humans of the female persuasion, but, umm, that's probably not going to be a problem in my apartment.
This morning I got up and went about my business, but couldn't manage to pee. There were...remainders from the night before in the toilet, so I rolled up my sleeve, lifted the top off the tank, plunged my hand into the frosty water and pulled up the stopper.
No points for guessing what sensation the sound of running water provoked in me.
On a pee unrelated note I bought a bunch of cheap classical music CDs at Virgin yesterday, and I have become convinced that Bernstein stole his opening (after the first three notes) for "I Feel Pretty" from Ravel's Rapsodie Espagnol. Maybe it's an official homage. I'm sure this is the sort of thing everyone else walks around knowing ALL THE TIME and I find out at the advanced age of 25 because I'm super ignorant. Even worse, I somehow got it into my head that Ravel was a chromatic composer. And...ummm...he's not. I was giving Maurice short shrift, or at least incorrect shrift, my entire life.
I'm flushing by hand and embarrassingly ignorant of classical music. Other than that everything's dandy.