Have a nice bidet

So, I may have drunk-Amazoned myself a bidet. Pretty sure I had it in the cart the last time I was wall-eyed and on the interwebs.

I blame the advertising, and wine, for making it seem like the most enticing thing in the world to have an icy jet of water shot directly into my asshole post-poop. Not to mention the eco-friendly use of clean, potable water instead of paper, because when the world ends we will apparently need toilet paper more than drinkable water.

I don’t make the rules, I just drunk-Amazon after evaluating the general scheme of things.

When the “Spray Away Bidet” arrived, I failed at convincing my husband that it might have been a gift, or a mistake. We once got a $200 Amazon gift card that didn’t belong to us out of the blue, why not a bidet?

“Hey, look at this thing. It came from Amazon – it might be a gift from someone. It’s a bidet,” I slyly slipped this into the conversation we were having about Oreo cookies and the abhorrence of Oreo Thins. I pulled the box out from behind my desk.

“Why the fuck did you order a bidet?” He said, like I knew he would.

“I don’t think I ordered it, it might be a gift,” I persisted.

“You ordered it. I’m not using it.” He said.

“Why the hell not?” I asked, gliding right past the fact that I had indeed ordered a bidet and it was not a gift or a mistake.

“Does it have a heat feature?” He asked.

“Ha! You would really be pissed if I had ordered the heat option. It costs hundreds of dollars,” I countered.

“See, I knew you ordered it. You had to if you know that. I’m not using it, but I’ll install it for you,” he said.

Considering this a win, I artfully steered the conversation back to Oreo cookies and let the bidet issue sit for the moment.

To his credit, he tried to install it on the toilet closest to my office, but something was something and cuss, cuss, fuck, it was back in the box.

The ever-elusive bidet continued to elude me.

Fortunately, my husband leaves me alone with an abundance of tools for long periods of time. (It’s called ‘working outside the house’ and it sounds awful, but someone has to do it.)

I really didn’t plan on installing the bidet myself until I had to fight with the cat to use the toilet. This is a habit my cats have; they drink toilet water regardless of the 97 bowls of water strategically placed around the house in areas where I kick them over at least three times a day.

I got the bright idea that I could probably cut it back to maybe 30 bowls of water on the floor if I just left the bidet on trickle for the older cats who fall in the toilet occasionally when the water table is low. Also, I wanted a bidet.

Have I mentioned that? I feel like it’s a secret no one talks about. I talked to a few people before I may or may not have ordered the thing and they were like, “Oh yeah. I’ve had one since the pandemic began. You’ll never go back.” I feel like this information isn’t shared enough. I also feel like we should probably figure out how to drink toilet paper when the world ends. I think I mentioned that, too.

I digress.

I had a little more trouble installing the bidet than I thought I would. I also spent an inordinate amount of time cleaning the back of the toilet and marveling at why we don’t have herptafluffalupugus from the funk that had accumulated.

Moment of truth. I sat down, slowly turned the adjustable water flow knob around to medium/high and waited for my life to change.

Nothing.

Aaauugghh! I didn’t turn the water to the toilet back on and I quickly realize that two shot shoulders make it entirely impossible to reach behind myself far enough to reach the stupid water valve while I am sitting on the toilet.

I stand up, bend over, put my face three inches from the bidet, turn on the water, forgetting that I have the bidet pretty much wide open on fire hose-status.

I lost half my eyebrow and a large portion of sight in my right eye. Even worse, the cat was knocked off his perch on the tub, where he sat watching me fuck up his favorite water source. My hopes of having a kitty water fountain/bidet were immediately dashed as the cat now has very hard feelings about being jettisoned off the side of the tub in such an undignified way.

But I’ve got a bidet, y’all. I’m one of the cool kids.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

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@MrsAhpahkah

As a former transportation industry writer, I learned that a regular paycheck is nice, but writing about something you're no longer interested in is miserable. Apparently, I like writing more than money - so I'm back to freelancing at 52. It's not as altruistic as it sounds, I'm also cranky and difficult and refuse to fit in anymore, making steady employment pesky and potentially dangerous to my psyche.

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