My First Toilet

My toilet broke two weeks ago.

I "fixed" it about eight times before actually I fixed it.

String, dental floss, and a coat hanger were my main tools in my amateur plumbing venture.

None of them did the trick. Nothing would suffice the constant whirling of my porcelain alter.

I needed that little plastic lever. The one my roommate must have cracked off in a fit of passion between him and his Peruvian lover.

I needed it badly.

I had been reaching into the sort-of-clean water in the back of my toilet for about three days when I finally had enough.

I sped my Grand AM over to the local Lowe's. This was an emergency. I needed that little plastic lever more than anything else in the world at that point. That was the day I fixed the goddamn toilet. Enough of being lazy. Enough murky back of-the-toilet water. I was going to fix my toilet.

I found one of the nice mustached middle-aged men who work in Home Depots and Lowe's all across America. He was very helpful despite plumbing not being his forte. This Super Mario Look alike was a carpenter, but he was ready to help me out as best he could.

I found the piece and sped right back to my little, college apartment. This was my first apartment, my first toilet, my first home improvement.

I lifted the porcelain toilet cover off the back and got to work. I plunged my hand into the sort-of-cold water and grabbed that chain. I threaded the arm through the hole in the back of the toilet and hooked the chain onto the arm. I tightened the nut on the arm/lever piece. Gave it a test flush. And …