The relationship between a girl and her toilet is based on trust.

Certain things are and indeed should be simply assumed at the beginning of the relationship. One the one hand, the mistress expects that secrets will be kept, that inconvenient truths will disappear as if they had never been, and that all comers, guests and family alike, will be treated efficiently. On the other hand, the servant reasonably assumes that certain heroics will never be demanded: metal and cardboard, for example, and anything previously living that is larger than a goldfish, are topics not to be introduced.

If it is a good relationship, the trust will be firm and well-founded enough to be taken for granted. This is the best scenario; the nature of this relation ought to be a silent one. If either party begins to find the performance of the other to be noteworthy, then things are not at all as they should be. There will most likely be trouble soon.

This fundamental and necessary trust is the root of domestic stability; there will be peace or trepidation in the home, as this arrangement approaches and departs from, the ideal. A house prepared for the performance of its plumbing to plummet, has only non-permanent peace, and has perpetual problems.

It is possible (in bigger houses) for there to be multiple partners; open relationships have been known to work quite successfully, and a certain tension can be relieved this way. When a girl gets her first apartment, however, the two partners are on their own, and they must deal with each other’s foibles however they can. Occasionally, however, one partner will be for some reason removed, leaving the remaining half of the duo to deal with a colleague with whom she was not previously familiar. One hopes the new relationship will be conducted with at least as much equanimity as the previous one, but hopes are not always realized.

Such was my recent situation. Having remarked to my new landlord that my faucet consistently dripped, I was unexpectedly treated to an installation of not one, but two new fixtures; upon asking why the second was to be removed (as I was sufficiently surprised by the replacement of the one), I was told it was an aesthetic issue.

It was true that the seat and cover were white, whereas the rest of that uncomplaining furnishing was a gray, which matched both the semi-offending sink and the bathtub as well, and it was true that the supports for the first were rickety and in fact annoying. The colors did not disturb me however, and as the all-important relationship had been nothing but satisfactory, the exchange had not occurred to me. I did not object however, since I am less sentimental than when I was small, and like new, clean things anyway. In very short time a plumber (young and actually fairly good-looking, not fitting the stereotype at all) came by and performed the ordered operations. The aesthetic result was nice: whiter and more shiny. Alas, I remembered too late certain comments and discussions made by my father and uncle, concerning ordinances passed since my building was built. The apartment was erected perhaps in the fifties; since then, consciousness of water use has risen considerably. My new associate was obviously from a new generation, and behaved accordingly. I eyed it with some apprehension.

Since my stints as a hotel housekeeper (although it was in some sense true even before), when I was required to clean up to thirty already-sparkling bowls and fixtures per day, I have had something of an appreciation for clean porcelain. The new addition to my household performed its required duties uncomplainingly, but less efficiently than that to which I had previously been accustomed. The deficit of alacrity with which it performed its tasks is complemented by the drama which naturally accompanies said deficit. That is to say, the relationship which ought to remain taken for granted is far too often given undivided attention.

I also am afraid of practical jokes on its part. There have been instances in which my new housemate has suddenly hinted that it might not keep its end of the bargain (and believe me, reader, I have kept mine!) Thus far it has only been teasing me. I fear that this might indicate the direction the relationship will soon be taking. This would clearly be a violation of the necessary trust relationship. Certain friendships and certain offices are meant for certain times of crisis, and desertion in time of need is a serious offence.

And so, gentle reader, we come to my last point, and it is here that I ask your help. The vital relationship of which I have been speaking is not, in fact, an equal one. If I were in violation of the agreement, redress and punishment are at my colleague’s immediate disposal, as it were. But if I am the offended party, where can I go for justice?