What is it about bathrooms, I ask myself, and therefore, by extension, you dear reader. Are you an over- or under-toilet paper preferer? Seat up? Seat down? Ditto with the lid?
I know people get quite staunch about every nitty gritty issue. The bathroom, after all, usually affords a small spot wherein you can pretty much be assured of privacy – well, unless you’re a mother, or the sister of three older brothers (hint – that would be me), when evidently the Marlene Dietrich “I Vant to be Alone” doesn’t come into play, and is studiously ignored.
I do know that two things drive me to absolute screaming mimi-dom when it comes to The Throne Room.
If the TP is no more, a new roll must take its place before de-throning. Sir used to – and I’m quite proud of the fact I’ve trained him out of the habit – leave the empty roll on the spindle in the hope that the Magic Bathroom Fairy would go that extra mile and put a new roll on. Well this Magic Bathroom Fairy got so fed up with that little game that she did not change the roll, but rather went to the cupboard to remove the approximate number of sheets she would need to use in any one sitting before the performance.
My other bugbear is that the TP must flow OVER the top of the roll, not under it. I have been known to furtively change the direction of rolls in various habitats – friends’ houses & restaurants to name a few. So sue me, I’m a Virgo.
I don’t, however, get hysterical, as I know others do, about the seat. So long as there is one, I’m fine. Finding yourself seated on porcelain is all rather icky and so cold it rather shocks the system to the point that you tend to forget what you came there to do.
I don’t understand why women get all girly and ewww about putting a seat down. Why should it be men only who have to play around with germs? After all, we do wash our hands thoroughly, no don’t we? Class? Don’t we??
Take my darling Sir, for instance. He was brought up so thoroughly in the toot department that not only does he put the seat down, he puts the lid down as well. Now this I find just a tiny bit obsessive, and having grown up in a house full of brothers, I presumed a lid was something which always stayed up.
That is, except for the one time I was so bursting, my back teeth were floating – to quote my mother – that I flew into the laundry room to use the spare toot, and at the tender age of 6 never realizing the toilet actually had a lid at all, sat down with a heartily relieved sigh to find myself relieving all over the floor.
To each his own, I guess, but as the wise old adage would have it:
Ladies, please remain seated for the entire performance. Gentlemen, stand closer – it’s shorter than you think.
Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at email@example.com.