The Italian speaking toilet.

Must be that I'm looking more and more like an Italian. At least six people have stopped me on the street. To ask for directions. Or to engage in conversation. In Italian. I take that as a compliment. Because I want to fit in. I want to be mistaken for an Italian. I'm starting to dress like an Italian. I wear nothing but Italian-made shoes. And I have two Italian-made sweaters. And I have an Italian haircut. Now if I could only speak Italian. Fluently. I reluctantly identify myself as an American. A stupid American. Because I don't know the language. I think it comes off as self-effacing humor. And puts me in more of a good light than a bad light. And I'm using my true love more and more as a translator. To make myself known. With humor whenever possible. For instance, after one flushes the toilet in our house, there's a strange and fairly loud hum. The Italian handyman wondered what it was. I told him it's a speaking toilet. And that I assumed it was speaking in Italian. And therefore it was difficult for me to understand what it was saying. But that I was impressed that the Italians had invented a speaking toilet. And that when I return to the USA I intend to install one. Because I want to keep up with the innovative Italians. But that I want the toilet programmed to talk to me in English. Maybe it's telling us something about the quality of the stuff being flushed. --Jim Broede