I’d just flushed the toilet out of habit, my son never does; It’s Saturday afternoon, i’m about to pay a visit to the toilet myself and what do I see lurking in the shadows of the porcelain but this little chap. A frog in my bog. But how do I get him out you ask?
A glass? No the porcelain will smash it and then i’d have to clean glass from the u-bend, no one else would. Then I thought I could use a plastic disposable cup but realised i’d locked them in the side board to prevent my daughter and her friends stealing all the booze, the sherry and curdled baileys, but i’ve hidden the keys somewhere and Mrs T doesn’t know, It’s a race to find them. I can’t use my hands because it’s in the toilet and I can’t touch frogsIt must be contained somehow otherwise it will leap out and into the house.
Somebody suggested I drop a log into the bog for the frog to climb onto and then I could lift the log and place it with the frog, from the bog into the garden out the front of my house. I was thinking that the log would be a calming place for the frog and so the chances of him freaking out and hopping away were slim, and I was willing to take that chance.
So I had to go outside to find a log, which meant cutting some wood and then I had to find the saw and procrastinate, there was no rush, Mrs T was away for the weekend, and I could always use the upstairs toilet. So after 20 minutes of not doing what I was building upto, and not really wanting to do it, I returned to the toilet and the frog was no longer there lurking in his shadowy explorations, under the rim, I checked with a torch, then flushed, no frog. No idea where he is either or how he got there in the first place.