This Post is About Poop

I always appreciate a title that is straight forward and to the point, don't you?

We have three toilets in our apartment. The one on the first floor cannot accommodate the flushing of anything more than three squares of toilet paper. I'd say that it gets clogged every three out of five flushes. It has been this way since we've moved in over three months ago. Despite this well known phenomenon, Dr. SOB continues to scoop the cat turds from the litter box into there. I'm sure that doesn't help AT ALL! He also 'uses' this toilet himself, usually right before he leaves for work in the morning. Which means he flushes and then is out the door (after washing his hands, I hope). It is never clear whether there is a clog until the next time the finicky commode is flushed. Are you sensing my problem yet? I get up with Sammy, drink some water and coffee, and eventually I have to pee. Now, I know the ways of said toilet, and I never try to do anything in there that I know will result in my delicate lady hands touching a plunger. So imagine my surprise after peeing and flushing to find the water level rising dangerously high. So high that I have to run out into the living room to scoop the baby up off of the floor, just in case. Luckily, it hasn't ever reached the rim of the bowl. Yet.

Well, he just made a mistake, you're probably thinking to yourself, right? Except that I have pointed this out to him no less than seven times. SEVEN. As in after the number after six. And yet he still leaves every morning after relieving himself of his burden while I am left with the burden of plunging the toilet. I don't think this is quite what I signed up for. Lucky for him he's a good kisser or his ass (and it's contents) would be kicked to the curb!