Mortified (more bathroom escapades)

My life’s up and downs,
I manage with ease; but one –
leaves me stunned, staggered.
I recently posted about my musings while in the bathroom. It isn’t as gruesome as you might imagine, rather a series of observations and questions that have come to me while attending to nature. Suffice it to say that I pay attention while in the bathroom.

So, let me relay a recent occurrence that I am still a little shaky about. There I was, in the last stall, when I felt the seat drop, significantly, even though I remained still. Shortly after that, I heard a flushing sound, not from the toilet next to me, but the one behind me… through the wall… in the men’s room that abuts the ladies. (!)

Oh my god… The shift downward of my toilet… no… it couldn’t be… it happened – please say it isn’t so –  when my through-the-wall comrade stood up, having completed his business.

Eww…. Our toilets were somehow linked through the wall. We were back to back — way too close for me. And our toilets made… a toilet teeter-totter.

Double ewww.  How shoddy is the construction at my work that I could feel him depart? How do they hang the toilets on the wall such that this is possible? Will I ever, ever be able to use that bathroom again? (See the other post; I’m running out of places I feel comfortable going…).

Later that night, I was telling Frank about this (when you’ve been married as long as us, you’ve pretty much run out of things to talk about, so you have to dig kinda deep). And then it hit me. The unthinkable. If I felt my seat drop when he got up, then… (I can’t even think it let alone type it)… then he must have pitched up a few inches when I plopped down, none too delicately, I’m sure.

One hundred times ewwwww. What must that other person have thought when moments from finishing up, he felt that upward movement of the seat? Did he realize what happened or was he in the home stretch such that he wasn’t paying attention?  Me, at the realization?  I doubled over in agony, in despair, in complete and total embarrassment. It didn’t matter that he was a stranger. I am forever changed, forever mortified.

Seriously, now I really can’t ever use that bathroom again. It’s going to be a long summer.

Brotherly & Sisterly Love

Oh, the happy sounds —
siblings playing, enjoying
the too brief cease-fire.
My 9-year-old girl, AP, recently returned from a week of sleep-away camp. Given I am prone to extreme bouts of separation anxiety, I did remarkably well. She, of course, was entirely nonplussed by the whole affair… with perhaps one surprising exception: I think she really, really missed her 5-year-old brother.  When we all arrived to get her, she hugged him first, picking him up and holding tight. He hugged right back, also clearly having missed her. He continued to get hugs, while I’m not sure she even looked me in the eye.

On the 45 minute drive back home, the two shared camp stories (sleep away versus zoo) and every once in a while, she would tell him that she loved him… and a few minutes later, unprompted, he would do the same.

It was really lovely. You often wonder if your kids like each other, let alone love each other. They seem to rally at critical moments (thunderstorms, injuries), but the day-to-day usually seems to lack attachment. So as we were driving home and I was hearing this delightful sharing of fun, this obvious connection to each other by two beings who will ultimately know each other longer than they will know me and Frank, I couldn’t help crying. (Yes, I cry at everything…but this was really sweet.)

And then, later that afternoon, I felt like Marlin, Nemo’s dad, who after happily following the bright light in the darkest depths of the ocean, finally sees that the light is connected to rather a lot of teeth:  “Good feeling’s gone.” The love between brother and sister morphed back into  the usual picking and poking and bothering within a remarkably brief period of time.

Oh well. At least I know the affection is there. That’s enough for now, I suppose.

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