Dropping Bombs

So there I am sitting on the toilet at home [this is like my personal version of 'Once upon a time', but this isn't going where you think it is] when my wife Bird opens the door and walks in without so much as knocking. I mention this last point as it is uncommon for Bird not to extend every courtesy by knocking and today her unusual lack of etiquette is going to burn her. I've not been feeling well and have a little rumbly in the tumbly [if you know what I mean] so I just sit still for a moment with a sheepish look on my face hoping that she needs only a moment and will then leave me in peace for some solid self-defecation time. Alas, it was not to be so. I don't really remember what task she set about doing but I do recall the protestations that came immediately after I emptied a surprisingly explosive volley. [Ok, so I said it wasn't going here, but I never claimed it wouldn't cross the path on the way.] Her return was weak as she had clearly been flustered and it was everything she could do to grab a couple things and run out the door. Even for our marriage of 15 years apparently this was going too far. Her delicate ears, her sensitive nose, and her fragile lady-like demeanor were both disrespected and violated in that briefless instant. My only defense was to retort that I had taken position first and it was she that had entered occupied territory.

I'm beginning to understand how men come to covet their time alone in the bathroom. At least in my case it seems to be the one place that is guaranteed to bring me unrequested company. Almost without fail the act of placing my bottom upon the cold seat will trigger a phone call from my Mom or prompt Bird to suddenly need an answer to a question. Even the kids will both come with stories they have been dying to tell me since they left the chair down the hall moments before. Not wanting to be left out after the bathroom parade I will hear the dog sniffing obnoxiously at the crack underneath the door. At first this didn't bother me but over time I started to feel a little cheated by the consistent disregard for privacy. So eventually when someone knocked at the door I would simply ask that I be allowed to finish my duty first. Now it's not as much a problem.

However, I think perhaps this is when I began to sit upon the stool a bit longer than was truly necessary. Bird started complaining that I take too long in the bathroom, which is true. "You take forever!" are her exact words. I tell her that I'm solving the world's problems and coming up with million dollars ideas, but in truth I take out my phone and check my email or play a game before setting it aside to do my paperwork and wash my hands. Or sometimes I find myself just sitting there gazing at nothing in particular. It's just a good way to find some quiet time.

I think some men might work hard to produce a reputation for being stinky. My father is a good example. The man could without exaggeration clear one or more rooms and did so frequently. I believe there was even a bit of pride there; and what man can't admit that at least once in his life he stank so bad flies fell out of the air? I personally don't think I'm all that bad, proverbially my shit don't stink [at least not very often]. I submit the frequent visits made to the loo by my family when I am in there as evidence. However, perhaps I should accept my father's affliction as wisdom instead. No one would even approach the bathroom if he was in there. It's amazing how even after striking out on our own we continue to learn from our parents for the rest of our lives. However, I have a problem. As I've just said I don't often stink, so in order to exercise my new found wisdom I will have to be creative. Oh wait! this is a problem I may have already solved. If you follow my million dollar ideas you may still be waiting for your bottle of Mother's Spit. [I'm still having some capital procurement issues.] In this case I think I just found one of the top 10 uses for Father's Ass! But now I think I have to pay my Dad royalties. I wonder if he'd like to be pictured on the bottle?