I don't remember flushing them down the toilet, but I do remember my dad pulling the toilet off the floor mount to fish them out. I remember being fascinated by the big hole in the floor, and wondering where the water went. (Even now, I don't know. Where does the water go when you pull a toilet off the floor?)
He was pissed off, of course, but I don't remember him being outrageously angry. He didn't yell at me or spank me or anything.
And tonight, for some reason, I had a flash of something. Fifty-five years later, I sort of remember knowing as I flushed those blocks down the toilet that they would be gone forever, that I would not get them back, and that, for some reason, they had to be gone, and that I had to deprive myself of them for some reason.
I wonder why I thought that. It sort of makes me sad to recall it.
1 comment:
Does that work for tax returns? Can I flush it down the toilet and be done with it? Will you write me a note to the IRS?
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