To the outhouse

This is our eighth day of having only a semi-functional toilet in our house.

Thus far, I’ve refrained from writing about this, because most likely no one wants to read about a broken toilet.  But I think I’m on the verge of having post traumatic stress flashbacks to our early days of living in a small hotel room here in Vienna.  This is completely different — we had functional bathrooms in both of our temporary apartments — but for some reason it brings me right back to that sense of transience and instability.

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