I told you there was a Dave story to go with my bathroom picture. There is. We had a little water damage that Dave repaired. That means we had to get new flooring. That means Dave had to take the toilet out. So he made a cardboard sled and slid it out into the bedroom.
When it was ready to go back in, he told me he hadn't looked on the underside, he was afraid. Afraid of what? Afraid of the unknown. Yup, the underside of a toilet is definitely pioneer territory.
He looked. Up in the very edge of the drain, at the toilet-floor interface, he found wads and wads of dental floss.
"Who's been putting floss in the toilet?!" he asked.
I said "You."
"I have not!"
"Well, I use a hummingbird flosser(that has little plastic dispo attachments with teeny pieces of floss) and you won't let Joseph do his teeth in your bathroom. That leaves you."
"I don't put my floss in here!"
I didn't even have to think how to respond to that one!
"You've been putting your floss in the toilet ever since Bab(previous cat) ate a piece of floss from the waste basket and only passed one end in the litter box. The passed end had a poop stuck to it and it followed him on the end of the floss that was still stuck up inside. Remember how he raced around the apartment with the poop on the end of the piece of floss chasing him?"
I told you there was a story.