The Day My Toilet Went Psycho
It has been a rather eventful week. Rachel had a shower door fall on her toe, which resulted in her losing a toenail in a traumatic experience, and our discussion earlier today about the importance of protecting the nail bed to allow the nail to grow back properly. Now I have a problem. I didn’t experience something so traumatic, but about two years ago I had accidentally split the toenail of my small right toe in half – vertically – while I was cutting it, and I just cut the rest as usual. Little did I know that despite the pain, it would cause me some annoyance later on. Now I realise that I should have cut it more neatly as if the split wasn’t there – instead of pretty much ripping half of it out. It didn’t hurt very much at all. I just thought it was an accident and I’d cut it too short, but even though it looks like a normal shape now, there are practically two toenails growing out of my toe.
What a way to be a freak of nature. :(
Thankfully it’s not that noticeable – not that I really go to the beach, wear open-toed shoes or paint my nails bright yellow too often. Apparently it could grow back to normal, but since it’s been a couple of years, it might not be any time soon. The good thing is, the vertical split was near the side of the nail so it’s just like a tiny toenail growing next to the big one. Apparently I can get it filled in with some product they sell at nail salons.
Earlier this week I missed the bus to the train station, and my mum kindly offered to drive me there. Of course, she also had to go to work afterwards, and she told me that she regretted offering me a ride because she realised she wouldn’t have enough time to go to work. I apologised. She drove me regardless, and we took a detour because we knew the main road would be crowded. We got stuck in the middle of a large road, and my mum asked, “Should we keep going ahead as normal or turn right?”
I said, “Hmm… I don’t mind, let’s go right?”
We had to wait for a few cars to pass before turning, and someone honked us. My mum said, “What’s wrong? It’s my turn to go.”
She turned, and there were a couple of police cars ahead so she slowed down. A policeman standing outside his vehicle pointed at us and signalled for us to pull over. There were a lot of cars in the street, which was less busy than the one we had just turned out of, and I was beginning to think we’d have to turn around. My mum wound down the window.
“Ma’am, you’ve been pulled over for turning right in a no-right-turn street.”
“Oh…” my mum said with a slight hint of despair.
“I take it you didn’t see the sign?”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“That’s fine, could I have your driver’s licence please – I won’t keep you long,” he held his hand out. My mum handed it over and we just sat there. What is he going to do? I thought. Not keeping us long? We’ve been waiting, and I’m going to be even later for work…
He finally returned with a slip of paper and said, “This is a notice of infringement; you will have 21 days to pay, after which time you will be warned and have a further 21 days to pay. That’s all for today, ma’am, thank you.”
Two hundred and six dollars? You have got to be kidding me. I turned into a street. I turned into a street. Well, my mum did, not me. If you hadn’t spotted us, you would have in no way fined us. Well, my mum, not me. Maybe it was breaking a rule, but you couldn’t have let us off? How many people did that guy fine that day, I wonder. We caused no one harm. Compare this incident to another time during the nighttime when my dad forgot to turn the headlights on. A police car behind us turned their lights on us and spoke through their speakers, “Please turn your headlights on”.
I had to tell my dad because he was so confused as to where the voice was coming from. Having your headlights off could cause an accident and harm to others (not to mention yourself). My dad wasn’t fined or issued a notice for that. He legitimately forgot to turn his headlights on. And similarly, my mum had not noticed the sign. There are obviously other things to take notice of on the road, such as the speed limit, the fact that there were other cars on the road – and it is normal that one would miss a sign. /hmph
Needless to say, my mum was not very pleased. Ugh, well I didn’t think it was fair either.
Earlier this week I managed to finish the big 10,000 word assignment with Kirti. We had finished well ahead of time, actually, which meant that I didn’t have to panic at all. However, my idea to ignore the presentation and wing it didn’t work. I thought I was good at this, damn it. /bash I didn’t do a good job because I only had my iPad with notes, and I am horrible at explaining things in person sometimes, and with older people staring at me, I didn’t feel too flash. I am one of the youngest in the class, considering some of the people in my class are possibly married and seem to have more work experience (or maybe I just have more of a creative work experience background), and I felt a little dumb standing up there especially when I couldn’t stop stuttering.
The good thing is, it’s over, and I’m sure our written component was a greater success. On the note of successes, I got 37/40 for my Interactive Arts essay, which I’m very happy about. I find it strange that I am receiving even higher marks in my graduate studies compared to my Bachelors, now that I’m also working full time. O_O One thing I am sure I won’t do all that well in is my Internet Programming subject, which has hit the wall of Java.
Let me put it in one sentence: I hate Java. It bears no use in my current position at work, and nor in my future endeavours. James has been trying to help me with it, which I am so grateful for. ♥️ Our teacher has not done a very good job of explaining the syntax and how to go about putting it into practice. We were supplied with several hundred lines of code and were then asked to edit it. This is what I hate. I do not like editing at picking at work that I have never looked at before and never understood. I just hope I’ll be alright in the end.
I was using the toilet today (as you do), and when I pressed the flush to flush the toilet (as you do), the piping at the back burst and the water went everywhere. I’m not joking. Here I was standing in horror as the water just leaked all over the floor and made its way to the basin and started running down the white tiles into the hallway. I was too shocked to shout a single expletive as I watched the clear water picking up all the remnants of dust on the floor. Instead I called for my dad.
“Daddy1! The toilet just burst and there’s water everywhere. Come here. I just flushed the toilet and it’s flooded.”
We spent some time mopping up the mess, which had hit the cupboards in the hall just before we managed to use a large mat to block it off. There was quite a lot of water and we used thick rugs to absorb the water, though it wasn’t very pleasant. I washed out a mop and mopped the floor nicely (like how relevant my featured image of this post is? Doctor and mop, woohoo). At least the toilet didn’t flood at the top, because fecal matter all over our floor would not have been cool. /poo
- I call my mum “Mum” and my dad “Daddy” – no idea why I never made the change from Daddy to Dad as I did from Mummy to Mum. ↩