(In the interest of full disclosure, I wrote this today thinking it might be inappropriate for Thanksgiving. But I think I’ve reached the age wherein I’m totally okay with All The Inappropriate. And besides, it may be a slight step up from past Thanksgiving posts that I’ve re-posted. And with that, I will bid you a Happy Thanksgiving!)
My elderly father-in-law recently went through rehab after a fall. Fiddledaddy’s siblings all set about the task of doing what they can to make him as comfortable as possible while living at home. He is a stubborn New Yorker who transplanted to Florida in the 1960’s with his bride and 4 children. In that home, two more children were added and a lifetime of memories were made.
It is understandable that he wants to live out his days in that sweet house.
One of the more globe-trotting of the siblings purchased and installed a bidet in PopPop’s bathroom. To make that area of his life a little easier. Enough said. And if you are unsure of what a bidet is, just let Dr. Mercola explain what our European cousins already know.
At first there was a good deal of chatter among the siblings, but one by one they all filtered over to PopPop’s house for a close-up inspection of the bidet. Most scoffed, “It’s all well and good until one of the great grandchildren use it as a drinking fountain.” I just hope I’m there for that.
Fiddledaddy went nearly immediately to Amazon.com and purchased a bidet for our Master Bath.
At first I was dubious. Change is hard, after all. But I’m nothing if not adventurous. But let me just give you a word of warning: keep the dial set to “low” for beginners. I do not need to elaborate. I’ve heard stories of fancy bidets that warm the water and then offer a gentle blow dry. I say nay. To the basic bidet model, I give a hearty WOOHOO.
Sing with me, in the key of C, “Sweet mystery of life at last I’ve found you.”
Then he purchased a bidet for the kid’s bathroom. Hoping above all hopes to cut down on the amount of toilet paper my son blows through. I’m certain that many forests have been felled needlessly.
The girls pretend it doesn’t exist. Jensen thinks it’s the best thing since sliced bread. Until a certain sister sets it to “girl mode” just to mess with him.
I don’t know, maybe it goes back to his toilet obsession of long ago. But the kids spends a lot of time in the bathroom. A LOT OF TIME. We know he’s still alive in there only because of the constant singing, and occasional roaring. We’re hoping the installation of the bidet lessens his time in the bathroom. Hope springs eternal. However, I fear it could have the opposite effect.
But Houston, we have a problem.
Fiddledaddy is so proud of his bidet installations, he has forbid anyone in the house from ever using the toilet as a receptacle for vomit.
Think about that for a moment.
It’s not like, once you feel the urge to let loose, you have a lot of time to think about, hmmmm, what shall I use instead?
The sink? The floor? My hands?
I DON’T THINK SO.
Since Jensen is still dealing with nausea from his ear infection, I had to tap into my inner-Pinterest and gave him a 6 gallon paint bucket lined with a large black trash bag. It has a wide open mouth to collect deposits and would be a snap to clean up by wrapping it closed and applying the lid when the deed is done. Thusly ensuring freshness. I think it will work, that is, if he actually HITS the opening.
It’s a conundrum that I will need to ponder prior to flu season. I’m guessing that if Fiddledaddy is the first to succumb to the flu, all bidet bets will be off.
In the meanwhile, I promise not to discuss vomit for a very very long time. Pinky swear.
Bidet stories, I’m sure, will be fair game. Any other bidet converts?