Ode to the Toilet

Thanks to our welcome back students barbecue on Saturday evening, my normal two day weekend has turned into four and I got to skip church on Sunday (at his point my weekend may still be extended to five days.) But rather than tell the story of my nasty bout with food poisoning, I'd like to point out the wonderful attributes of my new best friend: My Toilet. The reason for this relationship is the copius amount of time we've spent together over the last three days. I've grown to love my toilet almost as member of the family. My toilet and I have had many late night conversations, which once retired have been revisited each night a few hours later. My toilet is always there for me no matter what the time is and indifferent to whether I give it a rest or not. It doesn't even care if I have puke breath. It has been there for me as a place to sit, not necessarily rest, and never complains about the load I place on it. I have curled up by the toilet day and night, and as I kneel up in front of it the roundness of the bowl seems to smile and welcome me or reach out as if it were loving arms ready to embrace me. The toilet waits for me quietly and reverently while I kneel and pray by its side for my plight to pass. Undoubtedly my toilet has been solid and stoic in its role during my sickness. Thank you toilet, thank you.