by Celia Rivenbark

 

I wandered into a high-end plumbing supply showroom not long ago and was surprised, not in a good way, when a lid flew open just because I’d walked by.

“Just looking,” I said to the potty under my breath, sensing its disappointment. The lid quietly closed, and I resolved not to walk past it again. I’m no tease. The modern showroom for plumbing fixtures is a lot like the car showroom used to be. Lots of shine and good lighting and sticker shock. And like cars, you get what you pay for.

I used to think that I would never be able to afford a glowing toilet seat that is motion-activated, in case I become too feeble minded to, say, turn on the light.

But guess what? My 578th Bed, Bath & Beyond circular of the year (well, it’s only March) just arrived and the whole front page is devoted to fancy toileting.

Not only can you “add some glow to your go” with the Illumibowl toilet night light, but also you can use Poo-Pourri to spray the toilet bowl before you do No. 2 “so no one will know.”

This made me think, warmly, of my dear late father-in-law who liked to say that after his morning coffee, if the hallway was clear, the door was open and the seat was up, he might make it in time.

No time for pretending he was actually in there propagating lilacs. “So no one will know?” The completed Cryptoquote in the wastebasket is a giveaway.
BB&B crows, “The Best Seat in the House Just Got Better.” I have to wonder what kind of people consider their toilet to be the best seat in the house. (“Martha, the preacher’s coming for Sunday dinner. What say we give him the best seat in the house?”)

And now there’s the fragrant Face Values flushable wipe. OK, I’m not the sharpest bulb in the shed, but isn’t this confusing? A company called Face Values is selling a wipe that brags of a “fresh clean feeling toilet paper alone can’t give.” So maybe everybody else’s face is located in a whole different place? Do we start with the face and then, er, move down because, well, you wouldn’t want to do it the other way, am I right?

And finally there’s Squatty Potty, which costs $24.99 and is advertised as “the stool for better stools” (Kill me now.) A portable version costs five dollars more. Where do you use that? Perhaps if you’re visiting a friend, you could whip out your portable Squatty Potty in a kind of smug, “I brought my own” magnanimous gesture, although I’m pretty sure they’d rather you just bring wine like everybody else.

With Poo-Pourri, Squatty Potty, and face/butt flushable wipes, even an interstate rest stop can be lovely. Is this a rest stop or a spa? Only the domestic violence hotline tear-offs tell the story.
Fancy toileting on the cheap. Thanks, BB&B. You’ve made me, well, flush with happiness.

 

Rivenbark is the author of seven humor collections. Visit her website at www.celiarivenbark.com ©2016 Celia Rivenbark. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.