Friday, February 4, 2011
Privacy is a dirty word.
At least in my house. One is not permitted to use the bathroom without an audience. Any number of door locking methods have been tried and beaten. Tiny little lock smith wanna-be's run rampant with screw drivers and coins in my house. My children have picked every indoor lock we have installed in order to continue to demand attention no matter what unfortunate or compromising position one of us may be in. My children have forced me to take multitasking to a whole new level. For instance, yesterday my 5 year old barged in and demanded that I pull her tooth for her. I looked up from my book at her, "Really? You want me to pull your tooth for you while I'm pooping?" My 5 year old saw nothing wrong with this request but when I told her to "open up" she chickened out and decided she was the only one who could extract her first loose tooth. Off she ran, leaving the door hanging wide open for every one's viewing pleasure. To me, there is nothing more horrifying than walking by a bathroom and finding that it's occupied and in use. SHUT THE DOOR PEOPLE. Have you no shame? No dignity? I do not want to have to look someone in the face after I've seem them sitting on the can with their pants around their ankles, my husband included. We've been together 15 years and that is still not a place I want to go, nor will I ever want to go. We aren't one of those couples who just "hang out" in the bathroom together. One brushing their teeth, the other one emptying their bowels. Ain't happenin' folks. Now, because I have written this, professed my feelings publicly, I have cursed myself eternally. Someday, when my husband and I are walking with canes and clinking our Metamucil glasses, one of us will pass out while on the toilet and the other will have to deal with it. If I could guess lottery numbers like I can for see these things, I'd be on a beach in Fiji writing this, not in a state where temperatures reach numbers so low that even penguins won't live here.