The Day I Almost Forgot How to Flush The “Bowl”

I was “shocked” at what I had just done in the toilet, so I laughed and cried out in the night. Echoes rebounded off the corners of my loneliness. I was couchsurfing on the office couch at a “hot young #startup” a house in the Quatrian mountains (more of a garage, really), lying comfortably on an uncomfortable “sofa.” I was reading Craigslist’s «missed connections», when a solid you know what splashed into the “bowl” with an audible “splunk!” And then, as my eyes lit up like LED beacons in the psychedelic afterhaze of a desert party gone horribly wrong, I swiped upwards on the inverted toilet paper roll. My index finger, quite naturally, wanted to “swipe downwards” on the roll, but it was “incorrectly installed” and it was only at the “last minute” that I made the correction and was able to save myself “the trouble.”

It took me a moment to practice mindfulness because of the odor of what I had done, and as I did, I was “flabbergasted.” Since I wasn’t alone in the room, I waited, waited for the little machine to squirt out its freshening choking spritz of chemical “freshness.”

Finally, it did.

Sweet, beautiful release.

I got up and “flushed the toilet.”

Sure, we all know the stories of people who didn’t flush the toilet. People who, to quote the old song, “let it linger.”

But I’m proud to say, I’m not one of them. It’s not that I had learned a different way to interact with toilets. Or that I think I “know better”—but I do.

I really really do.



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