In the Toilet

Here is the latest picture of our new master bathroom toilet, with the latest in modern amenities, including foot straps and suction nozzle. Very European.

Not buying it? OK, actually this is a photograph of an actual Space Toilet, recently purchased by NASA for 19 million dollars from the Russian government. Anyone who finds that to be an outrageous price for place to pee isn't thinking this all the way through. This is a toilet for use on the International Space Station that will recycle most of the waste for maximum efficiency. Nothing goes into space that isn't put through an absurd number of tests from conception through final deployment. Anything that will be used by actual living, breathing humans and you can quadruple the amount of time/money that will be spent. A broken toilet on the ground is an annoyance. A broken toilet in space can actually become life threatening. So to find one that has already been deployed and optimized on 20 years of space stations is definitely the way to go and I have little doubt they are saving money with that price tag. Especially if it includes delivery.

Speaking of excrement, let me give a big shout out to the dumb vandals who visited my house this last weekend. We always knew there was some danger of this kind of nonsense, with a torn open house and no one at home, but I was hoping to get lucky. 7-7-07, my ass.

Before I continue with this tale of woe, let me preface by saying that so far this is a nuisance level incident. From the quality of the graffiti I would judge these to be kids running around just being stupid. I can only get so outraged at minor acts of malicious behavior having done a few similarly stupid things when I was in the moron age range of 12-15 years old. This is not to defend 16-19 year olds, who in many ways far outstrip their early-teen compatriots, but between cars, girls, drugs, and booze, the older set generally finds less vandalistic things to do with their time. Houses undergoing major renovations are like sweet, sweet candy to the ill-formed, suburban youth mind. As things are already ripped up, damaging them further seems both simultaneously ok and deliciously naughty. There may have been a couple of incidents from my own misbegotten youth where I crossed this very line, but I can not go into details under the advice from legal council.



Exhibit A: The number one thing they did which ticked me off was graffiti on my fireplace. I was not going to repaint my fireplace. Now I guess I am. They scrawled the word "Mexico" across the nice red brick. While I have no problem with our neighbor to the south, the font used is decidedly unimpressive. It also leaves many unanswered questions. Is this a pro-Mexico statement? Have I been hit by a Mexican-affiliated gang?



Exhibits B & C: Here are two more legible pieces of graffiti. If you have trouble making them out, they read: "I love Mexico" & "Mexican 4 Life". These were sprayed on a section of wall which will eventually become the back of the utility closet, so in the big picture not a big deal. The area was going to be repainted anyway and it is the back of closet. The message is now even murkier. I find it hard to believe that someone with Chicano pride would ever write such idiotic phrases. It is also seems likely that a real Mexican would have written it in Spanish, that being the national language of Mexico and all. Are these hate messages? As you might expect a large percentage of the guys working on my place are Mexican in origin, so is this an odd, reverse attack on them? Or could it really be a Mexican-American kid so bone-headed as to think he is promoting La Raza with such banal griffiti?




The rest of the graffiti seemed to be concentrated on two doorknobs, both of which were probably going to be replaced anyway, and more disturbingly on my pricey Jacuzzi tub. My contractor seems fairly confident that the tub is an easy fix and in retrospect that seems likely true. A bit of solvent should take care of it. Still, very irritating and totally illegible, so there are no further clues as to the ethnicity or predjudices of our culprits.

The final piece of evidence we must weigh is what the vandals stole, which is not much. They did not touch the several expensive fixtures we had purchased or most of our contractor's expensive equipment that he had lying around. Instead they stole a few wrenches and screwdrivers and one of the sets of our house plans. So if you see anyone trying to build a house just like ours with a few tiny tools you may have discovered our hooligans. I think it is fairly obvious that these guys are mischief makers and not any kind of real criminal.

So now we have to be more careful. Nothing of value can be left out. We are putting more locks on everything. We are telling our neighbors to keep an eye out for late night visitors who clearly would have to be using flashlights or something similar to be getting around. The police have been informed so that if things were to escalate in the future there is a record of this having occurred. Several other secondary thief-mitigation ideas are also being considered, the details of which I can not discuss on the freakish off chance one of these rapscallions reads this site. I am looking at you South Dakota user who has visited twice! (Google Analytics makes tracking your web site traffic fun).



Meanwhile the house proceeds forward unhindered by the flotsam and jetsam that it turns up in its construction wake. Today should be the completion of the rough plumbing and installation of the tubs. Windows and doors are being ordered as we speak. Cabinets and counter tops are in the final stages of selection. And the new addition has a floor! This first photo is a close-up of the floor framing for the master-bedroom-to-be, while the second photo shows the completed room with a floor you can walk on. That doorway you can see on the far side is where the master bath is going in.



In observation of the tragedy that had befallen my fireplace there will be no adorable pictures of the girls this blog. I am sorry that the actions of a few have led to the punishment of the rest, but I am just not in the mood. Hopefully this great disappointment will place pressure on the trouble makers who will turn themselves in to help assuage their great guilt. If not, then fine. Instead of adorable twins you can look forward to a series of pictures of dessicated rats:



This one fell out of my attic space when they removed the ceiling, a remnant of an earlier failed invasion from the fruit trees that line all the yards in our neighborhood. Please, young miscreants, turn yourselves in. I don't want to do a series of dead rats dressed up in costumes from around the world, but I will if I have to. I already got the tiny wooden shoes.

Plus I got to get on this Ratatouille money train. Woo-woo!