If my words aren’t a worthy demonstration of my love. If my words fall on deaf ears. If my words do not suffice and aren’t in your ‘love language’ of acts of service, than let my sad efforts to install a new toilet ring out from the mountaintops….
I LOVE YOU!!!!!
Yes, the fact that I’m going to go back into the ring or the octagon or whatever ultimate fighting/MMA/WWE/Championship Boxing venue you prefer should be proof and evidence of my affection.
The toilet took the first round by way of water leaking slowly out the back (after seeming perfectly installed). After all the bolt tightening and lifting and wax ring placing and paying the plumber to install the new flange (and two trips to Home Depot last night – and a bunch more on other occasions), leakage.
I said a cuss word or two under my breath, but then I asked the question I’ve been asking myself a lot: Would I want my kids to handle frustration the way I’m handling it now? Probably not. So… I slept on it.
For you, tonight, honey, I will do this thing again. I pray it works so we don’t have to sell plasma to hire a plumber to do it for us (roughly $150 from what I know).
If anybody who reads this besides my wife sees anything horribly wrong about the set up on the floor, let me know. Those are my toes, by the way.