Good Luck in the Toidy!

Here's one for ya.

A couple years ago I bought a toilet and basin for the new bathroom remodel. We went shopping for the sort of fixtures that would create the bathroom that dreams are made of—for a bath taker, that is, which I'm not. (But the better half is.) After logging the hours at custom fixtures places, and junk shops in the "funky old architecture" district, we found ourselves beholding our vision—the Pegasus Tulip line of luxurious fixtures.

Of all places, we were in Home Expo Design Centers, a Home Depot knock off. You know, the knock off where they charge a lot more. Home Expo has a custom side and an "off-the-rack" side where you pick what you like and get the boxes from the warehouse. We were excited to find a nice set at a pretty good price (as luxuriant toilets go) and we thought it amusing that our educated good taste was satisfied at the big box store. How lucky is that?

Fast forward two years: the toilet ceases to function. This is a problem that one encounters in everyday life. Even someone who isn't handy can give toilet repair a try before calling the handyman. And with home improvement comes basic drill-and-tape-measure skills, which a yutz like me didn't even know he had. (And still doesn't, in all honesty, but I give 'er a go until I drop something on my foot.) So I took off the lid to fix the flush button thing and found the problem was a cable busted from its mooring.

The dual flush feature is one of the hallmarks of the toilet's developer, Sanitarios Lamosa. Now, this button has a convenience choice: lesser flow for liquid removal and a greater flow for more substantial duty. Pushing the button pulls a cable, which opens the cascade of water. The cable had broken free of its button command and it was to me—Home Navy Seal—to go in and do my job. Here's where luck changed, to the degree that it was a nebulous flowing power that moved from good to bad without losing its inherent properties. Sort of like that old "Mystify" screen saver from Windows. (Check it out. Philosophy is all around us!)

I had to take the mechanism apart, and found it was a ball end that fits into a slot and all that. The ball end had popped off and the cable was free of responsibility. The hardware store guy suggested I go to a tackle shop and buy "shot" to renew the ball end. A do-it-yourself individualist, I went. The place closed at 6 and it was 6:02 on Friday. The fishermen in the parking lot, chatting about their Friday night plans, paid no attention to my sad-eyed look. Unlucky.

I went back to the hardware store and bought some other options, but when I got home some key pieces were missing from my pocket. That's right—I bought new stuff and lost old stuff to put the new stuff on. Unlucky.

At this point, we were flushing by pulling the exposed cable up, then pushing it gently back into the housing. It required a certain "feel" and the bare cable had sharp ends that poked tender, womanish fingertips. (My wife had the same complaint.) Better yet, the lid was off the john; with a cable sticking out of the water, our beautiful bathroom took on a uh, um, how you say, rural vibe.

The next morning, I went to Home Depot to seek out new replacement parts. See, Home Expo is a Home Depot company and I figured if I went to Expo, they'd send me to Depot because Expo has goods and Depot has stuff. So I approached the flooring people. Sure enough, they knew what I was talking about. But sure enough, they didn't have the parts. Unlucky.

(Real quick, those of you who do Home Depot regularly know you talk to garden people about plumbing and heating, or lumber guys about lighting, because there's never anybody in the department where the stuff you need is. Never.)

So the flooring people were heroic about looking online and really searching the issue. With no answers, though, they could only send me to Home Expo to take my chances. Things were looking bleak and our lovely toilet was bound for the junkyard and a handyman with greater powers than mine. Unlucky.

I got to Expo just as they opened and found two people with clipboards in the toilet aisle. They both turned, beaming, and asked how they could help. As I said the words "Pegasus Tulip," the guy said "Like these?" and pointed to the two toilets on the cart. Seems he had stopped to chat a moment when I came in, and was on his way to toss a couple floor models into the dumpster. Last year's news, you know.

If I wanted them, he said, I could take 'em right now and spare him the effort. So I took one and put it in the backseat of the car—Lucky!

At home, I quickly and easily swapped tanks. A little plumber's putty, a little needlenose pliers technique... And a brand new toilet for free! Not to mention, I had a complete unit that only needed a new flush button. I was still in neutral where the button was concerned, but in High Gear with a completely new toilet! With a little luck, I would have a brand new fixture standing by for the upstairs bathroom when we remodel this spring. What a day!

I put the new set with bum flusher in the backyard and covered it. My mission was to find a replacement flusher and life was mine for the taking. Lucky!

Meanwhile, the builder was tearing apart the upstairs in order to do some reframing and electrical work. He made an area in the backyard of the refuse material, under the tree near the toilet, the firewood and the the bike tire project. I wanted to get the toilet away from there to avoid damage.

Every once in a while, as I thought of it, I'd go online and look for plumbing supplies or toilet people who might help me find a replacement mechanism. I'd key in "Pegasus Tulip toilet" and search and search some more. One day, I found Terry Love's chat room discussing this very subject!! Lucky! A chatter had found the American distributor of the (Lamosa) Pegasus, Vortens, and had gotten replacement parts without any fuss from them. So I did the same—called them, told them about the breakdown and got one shipped at no charge! I had the second new toilet and it was totally free! LUCKY!

A few days later, the FedEx tag was on my door and I went to get the package the Saturday after. When I got home, I headed to the backyard to get the toilet and take it upstairs to the new bathroom area. As I walked from front door to back door, I noticed that the backyard had changed. All the construction rubbish, firewood, bike tires and yucky old paint junk was removed. Gone. Excised. The area had transformed from junkpile ("Honey, WHEN are you going to clean up that junk?") to spotlessly clean backyard. Birds looked for food where the pile had been.

And the toilet had gone with all of it. Uh oh...

Obviously, the builder had come by while I was gone and done me a favor. I called him immediately to get him before he dumped it. His wife answered and told me that he had forgotten his cell phone that morning. She was sorry, she was unable to reach him till she saw him. Was this an emergency?

Not any more, I guess. Unlucky.

So here I am with a new flush mechanism, which is all I wanted but could neither fix nor find. On my way to this point of having my need fulfilled, I had an unexpected fulfillment that, completed by the expected fulfillment, would have been like winning the lottery or something. Instead, I lost a toilet at the same time I finally found the replacement part for the toilet because the builder went out of his way to give great customer service moments before I did what I should have done sooner, the day he forgot his phone which he never forgets.

Lucky or Un-? Both, really. Suffice it to say, if it weren't for Luck I'd have no luck at all.