What kind of inconsiderate, white-trash jerk puts a toilet on his front porch?  Seriously, is this some kind of joke?  Is it supposed to be funny?

Who did this?  Was it someone in Bythelbs‘ neighborhood, perhaps that cat who parks his cars on his front lawn?  Maybe he got tired of putting the minivan on the front porch and decided to go for a more…porcelain look?  Perchance?

No, this isn’t my sister’s neighborhood.  It’s my neighborhood.  More specifically, it is MY FRONT PORCH!  Even more specifically, it is the toilet my own husband removed from our upstairs hall bathroom on Monday.  (Labor Day home-improvement project–take that, Cesar Chavez!)

So, I ask again, what kind of inconsiderate white trash?

Probably the same people who let their kids play with the garbage cans.

Hrmmm.

Madhousewife:  There’s a toilet on our front porch.

Sugar Daddy:  Well, it couldn’t stay upstairs.

Mad:  A toilet.  On the front porch.

SD:  So?  Jim had a toilet in his driveway for like, a week.

Mad:  He had a toilet BOX in his driveway.

SD:  It had a toilet inside!

Mad:  It was a toilet INSIDE a BOX.  This is a TOILET, just THERE, on my FRONT PORCH.

SD:  Jim’s going to the dump this week, just keep the chairs in front of it until we can get it in the back of his truck.

Mad:  A toilet.

* Not to worry, the toilet is now safely ensconced in the back of Jim’s truck and will be headed for the dump soon.  My front porch is now toilet-free, thanks to my good husband.  Thanks, honey.


The wonderful folks at By Common Consent have graciously welcomed me into their ranks as a permablogger.  So just in case you can’t get enough of me, my latest post for them is here.  You can read all my other BCC posts here.  Meanwhile, I’ve got three of my kids in school this morning, and it’s time for the baby and I to PAR-TAY!  Yes, we are doing laundry.  But we’re doing laundry in delicious solitude.  If you can have solitude with another person.  Let’s not spoil this moment, shall we?

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