I think the universe is trying to tell me something. When I went into the bathroom on Thursday and found my brush in the bottom of the toilet, it was moderately annoying. But what can you do?
But today, when I was wrestling with the paper toilet seat cover at work (Digression: I know I shouldn't love paper toilet seat covers because of the environmental waste, but goddess help me, I do. As a kid, I thought they were the epitome of class. I now know that the epitome of class is throwing up discreetly into a cup at a party instead of making a big scene by spackling the wall, floor, and other party goers, but definitely as a kid -- paper toilet seat covers. So yes, I use them even though my environmental consciousness winces every time. But the dispenser in the first stall closest to the door [I digress further -- apparently the stall closest to the door has the least amount of germs because most women go as far into the bathroom as they can to perform their business, according to an article I read.] of the ladies room on the third floor of my office building has become cranky. Sometimes I get the full seat cover, sometimes I get only the center piece which does you no good and forces you to use a one thigh position that can be awkward depending upon your shoes.) while still holding my ATM card and withdrawn cash in one hand and thinking, gosh, I sure hope I don't drop this. PLOP. ATM card sinks to the bottom of the toilet bowl.
The good news is that I had yet to use the toilet, so I was able to retrieve the card and give it a thorough soaping down in the sink. I did begin to wonder at this point if bad luck really does come in threes. But hey, it's Friday, it's 5, and I'm out the door.
An hour or so later, evening commute completed and handsome Boom walked, I go into the downstairs bathroom (not the hairbrush toilet) to change into my workout clothes. (Background information: I'm changing in the downstairs bathroom because Boom and I have been living on the main level for about a month now, barring showers, while his injured ACL heals. Being fairly extroverted and having one gay neighbor and one legally blind neighbor, I often change in the dining room -- no blinds -- since I'll be hopping on the elliptical there directly after. But today, I had to go, so I changed in the downstairs bathroom, discarding work clothes on the counter top.) I complete the wardrobe change, stand up, and whilst reaching to flush the toilet, I knock one sock into the swirling water.
So, to sum up:
Bad luck DOES come in threes
and
The universe is clearly telling me that I'm headed for the shitter, one possession at a time.
Tell all your single friends, stay away from the plumbing!
XO, JamieSmitten
But today, when I was wrestling with the paper toilet seat cover at work (Digression: I know I shouldn't love paper toilet seat covers because of the environmental waste, but goddess help me, I do. As a kid, I thought they were the epitome of class. I now know that the epitome of class is throwing up discreetly into a cup at a party instead of making a big scene by spackling the wall, floor, and other party goers, but definitely as a kid -- paper toilet seat covers. So yes, I use them even though my environmental consciousness winces every time. But the dispenser in the first stall closest to the door [I digress further -- apparently the stall closest to the door has the least amount of germs because most women go as far into the bathroom as they can to perform their business, according to an article I read.] of the ladies room on the third floor of my office building has become cranky. Sometimes I get the full seat cover, sometimes I get only the center piece which does you no good and forces you to use a one thigh position that can be awkward depending upon your shoes.) while still holding my ATM card and withdrawn cash in one hand and thinking, gosh, I sure hope I don't drop this. PLOP. ATM card sinks to the bottom of the toilet bowl.
The good news is that I had yet to use the toilet, so I was able to retrieve the card and give it a thorough soaping down in the sink. I did begin to wonder at this point if bad luck really does come in threes. But hey, it's Friday, it's 5, and I'm out the door.
An hour or so later, evening commute completed and handsome Boom walked, I go into the downstairs bathroom (not the hairbrush toilet) to change into my workout clothes. (Background information: I'm changing in the downstairs bathroom because Boom and I have been living on the main level for about a month now, barring showers, while his injured ACL heals. Being fairly extroverted and having one gay neighbor and one legally blind neighbor, I often change in the dining room -- no blinds -- since I'll be hopping on the elliptical there directly after. But today, I had to go, so I changed in the downstairs bathroom, discarding work clothes on the counter top.) I complete the wardrobe change, stand up, and whilst reaching to flush the toilet, I knock one sock into the swirling water.
So, to sum up:
Bad luck DOES come in threes
and
The universe is clearly telling me that I'm headed for the shitter, one possession at a time.
Tell all your single friends, stay away from the plumbing!
XO, JamieSmitten
1 comment:
i prefer to think of it as a calling. a water fetish, if you will.
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