I admit; I have issues. But so do you and if you’re going to deny it, well, you have more issues than I do. And I’ll be the first to admit that my issues go beyond the ordinary, say people who don’t tip enough, and into some uncharted territory. For instance, the windows have to all be open equally and with the little grid thingies lined up. If the two panes in the double window aren’t open the same distance, I have to adjust them. Same goes with curtains. They have to be open equal distance from the center of the window. Towels need to be folded only one way and put away with the fold facing out. No exceptions. I have refolded towels while hiding in the linen closet so as not to offend my wonderful husband for folding the goddamn towels the wrong way! However, today I faced one of my greatest unfounded issues that instantly parlays into you hearing about.
For God’s Sake, make sure the toilet flushes completely when you leave the restroom. I do not relish going into the bathroom to see the remains of your bathroom break floating in the bowl like some kind of shit regatta. Yes, I’m not so naïve to believe that each and every time I walk into a public restroom that I’m treading into virgin toilet territory. I know damn well that asses have been on the seats and shit has literally gone down. I know this. I accept it as I line the seat with three layers of toilet paper and hover above. I don’t need physical evidence that you’ve been there. I can conjure up enough visuals of your excrement excursion without the props. Flush. Seriously.
What person does this? Is this like a hit and run? You don’t look back? Aren’t we supposed to look back? Are you in that much of a hurry that you just can’t spare the extra 13 seconds (I counted) to make sure that you’ve successfully flushed? If you did, you’d have an answer to my next question. Where the hell was the toilet paper? Seriously. Where. Was. It. People, you are really disappointing me.
And I know that I could probably (although I’ve never tried it) just use my shoe and flush the toilet and then go about my own business as if it were never there. But I can’t. Once I’ve seen it, it’s burned into my memory. I can still recall the shape and color and size of the deposit and believe me, I can’t go back there. It’s game over for me. You’ve defiled the restroom. It’s time for me to go home. You’ve ruined my illusion of a clean waste-free bathroom. Thanks a bunch.
So do me a favor. By all means, shit in the toilet all you want. I’m joyous over your digestive successes. I wish you all the best. But really, if you value the next human who stumbles into your little shit storm even a tiny smidgen, you’ve gotta work on your follow through!