The Porcelain Princess

It’s the one year anniversary of my move from Colorado to Missourri. After spending 47 years living in Denver and 30 years living in the same house, just the thought of moving was overwhelming. As early as April of 2025, my husband and I threw ourselves into the throes of preparing for the move.

Full disclosure, only one of us was deep in the throes of preparing. Having been raised in a tribe which thrives on not only being well-prepared, but over-prepared, I spent hours a day planning our move and deciding what to keep, what to throw out, what to donate, and how to get the house ready for the market. My husband, however, had a more casual attitude, since he was raised in a tribe whose motto was “there’s always tomorrow.”

To complicate matters, my husband and a few of his friends thought it would be a good idea to take a road trip to the UP of Michigan for the 4th of July, something they had done many times in their youth. I support the male bonding experience, but this trip was not well timed. After all, we were moving! My husband would be gone for ten days, leaving me alone to get the house ready to put on the market.

A few days before his trip, the toilet in the master bathroom malfunctioned. Big time. We called our plumber, knowing that he could fix anything. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fix the toilet. We had to replace it, and due to the dimensions of the bathroom, we had a problem.

After taking multiple measurements of our bathroom, we finally found a toilet at Home Depot that would fit, but we had to place a special order, and it would take at least 2 weeks for it to arrive.

The toilet was ready for pick up when my husband was on his trip. I was given a strict 3 day window for pickup. If I didn’t get it by the end of the third day, it would go back on the shelf to be resold. No problem!

I cleared my calendar for the next day, and a space in the garage to store it until the plumber could install it. I figured I could easily lift it out of the back of my SUV.

When I arrived at Home Depot, I waited in the parking as a sturdy young man delivered my toilet. I watched him struggle to get it into the back of my SUV. I said, “That looks heavy.” He looked at me like I was an idiot. He replied, “It’s a toilet.” Sweating and grunting, he managed to get it into my SUV, bid me a nice day, and left me standing in the parking lot, wondering how I was going to get the toilet out of my SUV and into the garage.

Spoiler alert; I didn’t. But it wasn’t for the lack of trying. When I realized the futility of my efforts, I resigned myself to the fact that the toilet was going to sit in the back of my SUV until someone stronger than me showed up to get it out.

For the next ten days I drove my SUV and my toilet all over the city of Denver. If I made a sharp turn, the toilet would roll to its side, making a loud bum-ba-da-da noise as it fell. When I turned the other way, it would roll to the opposite side. It was bizzare, but highly entertaing as well. I even started to get attached to my travel companion, and smiled everytime I looked in the rearview mirror and saw those words “American Standard” written across the box.  I even felt a bit sad that our time together was quickly coming to an end.

The day that my husband was scheduled to come home was also the day that the plumber was coming. Much to my relief, things were falling into place. What could possibly go wrong?

Unfortunately, I was about to find out.

To be continued….