Toilet Seat Synchronicity.

Our toilet seat won’t stay up. I mean it’s not a bad case, some just fall straight back down. Ours hovers vertical for anything up to several minutes then bang, down it goes. It’s new-ish, from Wickes I think, with an off-set hinge and swivels for adjustment. This might appear a small matter but it’s important. You see having read ‘The Selestine Prophesy’, apologies for the spelling it was a long time ago, I am aware of synchronicity and the abstruse connectivity that underpins our physical existence. And that well honed awareness has allowed me to recognise the true meaning of this apparently insignificant occurrence. The stay-up-ness of your toilet seat indicates who wears the trousers in your house. It’s true. Our old seat would stay up like a soldier, rock steady he was, but this new one, unreliable. This of course means Mothermouse is gaining the upper hand. I’ve suspected it for a while but this is proof. Mothermouse is bidding for the trousers. I’ve been at it a couple of times with a screwdriver adjusting the swivels wondering if the alignment of the hinges is somehow inducing a subtle rotational thrust, adjusting it forward and back, but each time it just won’t stay. It just hovers there waiting till my back’s turned, and bam. I mean how’s your toilet seat? If it won’t stay up, it falls right back down, forget it you’re a doomed man, powerless in your own home. At least I’ve got a fighting chance. And if it sits there comfortably resting against the cistern well done, you has got no worries. (the ‘you has’ is the suggestion of my grammar checker, I’d gone with the more correct ‘you’ve’. I’m wondering if it was programmed by an African American, but I like it, it adds flavour) Where was I? Ah yes, no this is no plumbers misjudgement, not a faulty product; it’s the sign of a condemned man. Sorry that’s it. I read it in the Selestine Prophesy