Sometimes you find yourself at the edge of a body of water, looking down, wondering whether or not you can make it. Your mind weighs the pros and cons - makes measurements as to what will work and what won't. Trajectory. Angle. Your life has come down to this moment. And now it's all about perception, instinct, and skill. And most of the time you come out victorious. Most of the time you are able to bask in the smooth and the flow. But sometimes, despite all your best efforts, you wind up urinating on your scarf.

Let me back up. See, I've got one of those long Gap scarves. When it's not wrapped around my neck, it stretches down past my knees. So when you're standing there at the bowl, it's usually a good idea to throw each side up over your shoulder to avoid any unfortunate accidents. The thing is, it's usually advised that you take this step before the stream of piss begins. The thing is, sometimes you're not as coordinated as you think. The thing is - and this is really the crux of it - sometimes you discover you're somebody who pees on your clothing. And you just have to accept that about yourself and move on.

Okay. Let me back up a little further. Last Friday, we were in a kitchen-and-bath store looking at fixtures. C was already annoyed with me. There was a reason why - there usually is - but I've forgotten what it was. Looking at all those sinks and showers and toilets while drinking coffee made me really have to pee. And when you think about it, could there be a better place to use a bathroom? Just make sure you use the right one. Otherwise you could probably be arrested.

It all happened so fast. It's difficult to put things in their proper order. I do remember there was cursing involved, and warmth and wetness. When I came out of the bathroom, I decided to come clean about what happened to C: "I just urinated on my scarf." Though I've never been on the receiving end of this statement, I'd have to say it probably ranks pretty low on the list of confessions you want to hear uttered from the lips of your spouse. Others might not be so bad. "I've been naughty," for instance. Reaction: Oh, yeah? Do tell . . . "I've been a bad, bad girl." Reaction: GO ON .... "I've peed on my scarf." Reaction: Head shaking, eye rolling. Somehow that one just falls flat, doesn't it? Let's just say C was not amused. At least not at that moment. Later, in the car, we both had a pretty good laugh. But at first, I think the reaction from C was more like disbelief. And a kind of wonderment at the glaring reality which she's been catching glimpses of for the last eight years: somehow, despite all her good upbringing, she wound up marrying a cave man.

Anyway, it happened. The scarf has been washed. End of story.

The real story now is this: (unfortunately, it still has to do with urine) Our bathroom remodel project started yesterday. The contractor has done the first step - which is to tape a bunch of paper to the floor and seal off the doorways with plastic, a futile attempt to help control the white dust that is sure to get everywhere, despite these measures. I'm hoping the plastic will impede the spread of the white dust a little bit, anyway. We'll see.

Anyway, our old fixtures are being removed on Wednesday. The toilet, the bath, everything. We're keeping the toilet and the sink, because they're pretty new, but we're losing the tub. Still, they all need to come out so the contractors can re-tile. So our sink and toilet will be sitting in our entrance for a little over a week (if we're lucky) - just sitting there like strange dada art installations. Duchamp would be proud. And, oh yeah did I mention this bathroom that's being gutted is our only bathroom? Yeah. That's an important point.

There are a number of reasons to have a home. It's a place to put your stuff. It's a place to relax and unwind. It's a place where you know what to expect form the things - animate and inanimate - that populate that space. This could not be more true than when you're talking about your toilet. Or, if you're lucky enough to speak in pluralities, toilets.

We tend to take the toilet for granted. I mean, we always know it will be there in the same place, morning, noon, and night. When we're standing (guys) we know just where to direct our flow - just how to aim. We can do it in the dark. Hell, we could probably do it in our sleep. And when we're sitting, well it just feels cozy and nice against our buns. It's - and I hope I'm not getting too sentimental here - our friend. A really close friend that doesn't mind you pissing on him every once in a while. It's generally the last thing you see before heading to bed and it's the first thing you want to see when you wake up in the morning. Imagine waking up, bladder full of last night's water or beer or soda, and your toilet is gone. It's strange and painful to imagine it not being there. And the cruel part is that our toilet will be there - right in the hallway. But it can't really be it's old self there, can it? Not really. Oh, it'll look and feel the same, but it definitely won't behave the same - no matter how much we wish it were so. I'm just glad I'm not one to sleep-walk.

So for the next week, maybe two, it's going to feel a little bit like camping for us. We'll have running water, but only in our kitchen sink. And the kitchen sink is not really good for showers, or to sit and contemplate life's finer things. But never fear - we have an out house: the superintendent's office apartment in the basement of our building. We'll be using this for necessities, and we'll be grabbing showers at the gym. I'm going to keep a spare bottle nearby in case of emergencies. Oh, and we'll be spending the weekends with friends and family. Thanks, E&M and J&A for taking us in. I promise to remove my scarf.

Oh, and have a look at the Pre-Remodel Gallery.

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