Not in Kansas Anymore

DISCLAIMER: Today's post is about the toilet in my new apartment and my experiences trying to figure out its many functions. If, like me, you share a sense of humor with your average nine-year-old and think that butts and bodily functions are HI-larious, please continue reading.  If you'd just rather not even think about such things, no worries, but skip this entry and please come back another time.

So, I'm going to need to name my toilet.  I've spent more quality time with it in the past 24 hours than I have with most humans in the past month, and it even leaves the light on for me.

We are kind of at the defining our relationship stage of intimacy, so I need to at least know how to address my new friend, but there's no way I can approach a glowing toilet bowl in the dark, y'all.  I've seen all the 80s horror movies, and I know for sure that's the kind of situation where something alive reaches up and drags you down forever.  It's a good thing I have a bladder of steel.  

So, too-much-information but also essential to the narrative--I'm a shy pee-er.  Let's pretend this never got posted to the World Wide Web the next time I see you in person, shall we?  Anyway, I can't always go if there are strangers around.  I could try, sure, but I mostly get stage fright and just can't go (and you all know, otherwise stage fright is NOT a thing for me.  Go figure).  In public restrooms, sometimes I have to wait for someone to flush or run the water to provide some...camouflage, I guess?  Aural incentive?  More often, I just don't go into restrooms outside of my house, which is actually great, because public restrooms on principle are revolting.  Yesterday, when we had movers, furniture delivery guys, and all around helpful people in and out of the apartment all day long, I just had to pretend that the toilets in my new apartment didn't exist, because there was no way I could make a visit with all those people around.  It was a long day, as moving days tend to be.  When 6pm rolled around, I had been holding it for long time, and I wasn't thinking about my new sentient toilet--I hadn't even looked at the remote yet.  The door closed behind my guests, and I made a beeline for the master bathroom for the first time.  Friends, when I sat down, my toilet beeped at me, sprayed a harmonious little trickle of water into the toilet, and scared me completely into next week.  I tell you now it is a fortunate thing that I'll ever be able to pee again, as I think all of my insides retreated up to about the level of my nostrils.  I had to sit there and yoga breathe just to restart my heart, let alone to be able to empty my bladder.

Despite our startling introduction, I had been developing an interest in fancy toilets for a while, and I knew I was going to want to try it out.  I hate to admit that this is my source of information, but I saw a Facebook video that pointed out that nowhere else on your body, if you needed to clean it, would you give it a swipe with paper and call it good.  That's a good point, y'all, and I'm a fan of cleanliness.  Also, the Japanese have great taste in just about everything.  I went to a Japanese store today that was kind of like Target, except that everything in it was super cute (like cute cute, little animals with eyelashes cute) AND everything in it was two dollars (exactly!  None of this "sorry, we lied, some things are really five dollars" like in American dollar stores, but really truly $2 ALREADY INCLUDING TAX), and it had everything I wanted, which Target hasn't done in five years.  It's my new favorite place in Singapore and I'm going again tomorrow.  So millions of Japanese people can't be wrong, and I hear that they think that toilets that do more than flush are great. 

I wasn't sure at first what exactly my smart toilet could do.  I went and found the remote control and was met with this foolishness:

Super informative, thank you.  Are those bubbles of happiness floating upward? Is there soap involved? What exactly do you mean with your euphemistic symbols? There was a sticker on the inside of the toilet lid that offered some insight, as it warns you about not letting older people use the toilet unsupervised, and referring to "rearwash" and "ladywash" functions.  I can not make this stuff up.

PS- I didn't get a manual. 

I knew from the pictures I couldn't do things by half measures.  Are those JETS of water?  I didn't know how high the water would go or how coherent the stream might be, and it seemed like there was a risk that you'd be spraying the entire bathroom, or worse, you're going to shoot your eye out.  There was no way out but all in.

So I settled in, appreciating this time that the seat was warm (best thing in the world, as long as you're not in a public restroom) grabbed the remote, and pressed a button.  I may write an entire blog post about toilet functions, but I'm not going to describe the particular sensations for you or anything.  THAT would be weird.  But I might have some helpful hints for anyone else who is unsure what smart toilets do.  

Let me encourage you first, not to do any kind of reasonable research BEFORE attempting new technology.  Everything you need is right there in the old noggin.  Despite this being an age where every bit of information you could hope for it easily and immediately accessible, just dive right in to personal inquiry, like I did, and then Google AFTER you've learned everything by trial and lots of error.  Because that's always a reasonable course of action.

I should tell you, first of all, that the toilet's aim is precise.  The sprayer nozzle is tucked under the seat, and you'll hear the mechanics extending the sprayer arm before you feel it.  I'm a little concerned, in our digital age, that it must have a tiny camera on it to assist with aim, but maybe human anatomy is more standardized than one might expect.  You can adjust the pressure, temperature, and location of the spray, so maybe the settings just happened to be right for me.

If I think it's watching me, I may never pee again.

If you ever give one of these things a try, I encourage you to relax.  Don't tense up when you hear the sprayer arm extending, anticipating whatever comes next.  Being tense might cause the sensation to be more ticklish, and then you'll have to try to not fall off the toilet laughing as you attempt to turn it off.  It's also important to know that the remote has to have a fairly direct line of sight to the receiver on the toilet to work.  You may be able to start the stream just by mashing a few buttons purely by luck, but then you'll go to push the stop button and it doesn't stop.  Maniacally pushing the stop button over and over, double clicking, holding it down, none of those work, so don't allow yourself to despair considering the possibility that either you'll have a stream of water spraying your rear for the forseeable future (NB: The Internet says there's an auto-shutoff after five minutes.  FIVE minutes?!) or you can hose down the entire bathroom with toilet water by getting up and running away.  I'm no quitter, so I eventually figured out that I had to aim the remote directly at my bum.

There are two main functions, as I mentioned before.  Rearwash and Ladywash.  They are aptly named.

Either of the two primary functions can be augmented with an "oscillating" spray.  Maybe it's nice once you know what to expect, but I found it startling, more than anything, like when the kid down the street sprays you with the hose as you ride past on your bike and you almost wreck because when there's suddenly water in a place where it wasn't before you can't help but splutter a little.  I don't think that was the intent.

My favorite part, possibly just behind (Lol! Behind. I had to. I'm so very very sorry.) the heated seatwarmer (seriously, a warm toilet seat is nice. Try it) is the fan.  My car in Houston, that sadly we had to sell before we left and I miss desperately, had not only seat warmers but seat coolers.  Yes, seat warmers sound silly in Houston, but apparently there's nothing like a warm butt to bring me joy.  It's like having a fireplace anywhere in the South; just crank up the A/C and enjoy the coziness.  But seat coolers are next-level awesomeness.  You don't know you need a cool breeze on your behind until you've had a cool breeze on your behind.  Whether from nostalgia for my beloved car or just because a backdraft is excellent, I highly recommend the fan.

That's it!  I survived.  No one complimented me on my sparkling derrière as I ran my errands today, and I don't think I noticed a significant difference in my personal experience, but I tried another new thing, it was fun, and now that me and my friend are properly acquainted I'm probably going to do it again.