In which I am violated by a magic toilet

Ran into my first Toto on Saturday. Oddly enough, in an off-the-grid house. Of course, this was no feelthy hippie off-the-grid abode. It was more the wealthy boomer type. I had heard about the potty from Dr. Moo, who told tales of it freaking her out by opening whenever she walked by. And I held my pee the entire four-hour drive in anticipation.

OK, no I didn't. And my first pee was in the regular, downstairs loo. 'Cause it's tacky to ask a gracious wedding shower hostess "Where's that fancy terlet I've been hearin' so much about?" right when she opens the door. The couth route involves waiting several hours, then asking your sister, who's peed in the magic loo before, if it's OK to use it.

True to form, the potty opened its mouth as soon as it saw me. I dropped trou, had a seat, and did my business. Number one only, of course! Because I have Klass. Then I turned to the wall-mounted control panel and started pressing buttons. And got a surprise.

Off-the-grid houses have hot water on demand. Hot water on demand takes awhile to heat up. But this was the Rolls-Royce of toilets, top-of-the-line, with water pressure to match. My, ahem, lady apples got blasted with cold water and I nearly shot up off the seat. I pressed each button in turn, trying varying degrees of pressure and oscillation. And it was...interesting. Then I dried off my business, but the dryer smelled weird, bad weird, so I quickly shut it off.

Coincidentally, one of the books I took out of the library this week is all about sanitation, and there's a chapter in there on the Toto. It makes the interesting point that in fact trying to remove dirt with a piece of paper is much less effective than using water. And you can imagine what dirt is a euphemism for.

Potty on!