Tag Archives: bathroom

Shower Power

Here’s the deal.

While I like my cat enough and everything, I’m not one to spoil her and treat her like the child I’ll never have. I don’t do clingy, and (she lets me think) we have an agreement regarding our boundaries.

Monie can do whatever she wants except jump up on things (not an issue, as she’s not really athletic,) sleep in my bed or hang out in the bathroom while I’m in there.

I’m don’t need her staring up at me while I’m on the toilet or getting into the shower, silently judging me with her eyes. I figure I don’t camp out outside her shit box, so she shouldn’t camp out outside mine.

Then again, she does bathe in random rooms around the house, so I suppose our boundaries are a bit blurred.

All of this is to say that her new “favorite” place to camp out is directly in front of the register in the bathroom—the one located between the toilet and the counter and directly across from the shower.


She had never shown any interest in the bathroom before and I didn’t realize this was a new “thing” until I was in there and heard her little bell as I stepped out of the shower. I shooed her out and didn’t think much of it until later that week when I pulled back the shower curtain and found the furry little beast sitting in the middle of the tub.

A more pleasant surprise than a spider, for sure, but still not entirely welcome.

Anyway, I’m letting her have her own little space next to the heater when the bathroom isn’t in use, simply because a) I choose to believe she likes the warmth and isn’t some kind of a pervert and b) it keeps her out of my hair when I need to do important things like eat or Swiffer.

And while I refuse to allow an audience for normal toilet things, I am thinking she might be able to serve a purpose for those times I’m in the shower.

You see, it’s been my experience that showers are a great place to spend 9 minutes thinking about all of your problems and 1 minute actually showering. If she wants to hang out while I’m reading the back of the shampoo bottles out loud in the multiple languages—“Shampoo/shampooing” “cranberry oil/huile de canneberge” —she might as well make herself useful.

If she can complete either of these tasks on a regular basis, she can stay:

1) Along with thinking about all of my problems, I also compose great literary works while showering. I think it’s something about the steam releasing all the creative things from my brain or something. Look it up. It’s probably a thing.

I will dictate these brilliant thoughts out loud for Monie to transcribe so my thoughts aren’t sucked down the drain with the suds. I know it doesn’t sound possible, but SOMEONE’S been adding “catnip” to the grocery list and it hasn’t been me. Let’s put those skills to good use.

2) Michigan is cold in the winter, and most days I could stay in the hot shower until my skin resembles a sunburned prune. This is not good for either my skin or the water bill, so if Monie can somehow reach her little paw in and shut off the water when a timer goes off, that would be most helpful.

Oh, and warming up my towel in the dryer would be a nice touch.

All in all, I think my proposal is fair. If she doesn’t want to comply, she can scoot her furry feet out of the bathroom when I’m there—as long as she stays off my bed.

We have boundaries, after all.

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A Silver Lining

Do you have an extra hour?

If so, I invite you to watch me attempt to replace the shower curtain liner. 

This is a task that must be done on a regular basis, lest one plans on growing an assortment of invasive species in their shower. But it’s often complicated by a) the ridiculous metal rings that have to be opened and closed and b) the fact that I’m me.


It starts with the purchase of the $5 vinyl liner from Target, simply because I’m fancy, and then the placement of the packaged liner on the counter for at least two weeks while I muster up the motivation to enter into this bathroom battle.

Once I feel sufficiently motivated and occasionally medicated, I pull out the scissors and cut down the old liner. This saves me the work of opening the ridiculously stubborn hooks for at least a few minutes more.

After the old liner is properly discarded though, the real work begins.

With an air of demented determination, I set out to pinch open the bastard hook things as fast as I can, trying to ward of the agonizingly painful feeling of having to hold up my arms for what feels like at least two or three hours.*

*about 10 minutes

Once the rings are all open and I regain the feeling in my separated shoulders and numb arms, I pat myself on the back—it’s good to recognize small victories—and begin hanging up the new liner.

This is a relatively easy part of the process, what with the rings already open, but it never fails that I step into the shower to hang the thing up and step in one random small droplet of water.

If there’s not a helpline for people who step in small droplets of water with clean socks on while changing the shower curtain liner, there needs to be.

Or I could just remember to take off my socks.

At any rate, once the new liner is hung and a second congratulatory break is taken, I set out to pinch shut the bastard hook things as fast as I can, trying to ward of the agonizingly painful feeling of having to hold up my arms for what feels like at least two or three hours.*

*about two or three minutes

When the last hook is snapped, I can exhale, change my socks and take comfort in the fact that I won’t have to do this again for at least a few months. Unless I did it wrong and missed a hook somewhere along the way, in which case I will cry and have an extra hook hanging around for a bit.

Then again, it’s one less hook left to close.

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Take a Load Off

Are you sitting down for this one?

If you are, you’re probably doing it wrong, at least according to this ad I found in the back of a magazine last month.


According to the website—yes, I went to the website to see if this was a real thing—“It is Squatty Potty’s goal to change the way we poop, one ‘stool’ at a time.”

Doctors have deduced that “The ideal posture for defecation is the squatting position. In this way the capacity of the abdominal cavity is greatly diminished and intra-abdominal pressure increased thus encouraging expulsion.”

Enter Squatty Potty—and someone wearing white pants who looks really happy about encouraged expulsion.


But that’s not all!

“This sturdy, custom-designed stool allows for full squatting and semi-squat seated positions on your existing toilets. And, when it’s not in use, it slides conveniently out of the way under the toilet.”

Now I’ve had my fair share of “elimination issues” throughout the years as a result of IBS and the abuse I put my poor body through, so I’m not poo-pooing this invention at all. I say do whatever you need to do (safely) to literally get your crap done.

But because I’m currently feeling about as mature as a 12-year-old boy, I got a kick out of reading these testimonials:

“I now always have a complete elimination every time—something I rarely had before. I dropped a few pounds as well and my stomach isn’t bloated. (LOL – guess I was full of shit.) My Asian friend also told me that short people (and children) are more affected by the damage caused by not squatting. Makes sense because I’m a petite woman—only 5’3″.

Perfect testimony combining racial references, a groan-worthy pun and the overuse of “text” speak.

“Now with my knees up, I’m knockin’ poops outta the ball park! The only fiber I need now is already in this sturdy pressed wood stool.”

For some reason I picture the person who said this to be a someone like Cousin Eddie who would slap his knee and say, “Shitter was full!”

“I lived for a year in India with a hybrid squatter/sitter toilet in my home and got used to the ultra-natural elimination that comes with hunkering down. Ever since then, it’s been an effort (often comical) to get my feet up on walls, tubs, chairs, shelves–you name it. Finally, I can get comfortable in my own bathroom here in the U.S., and my poop time has reduced by minutes. No more waiting!

They were apparently the Spider-Man of shitting.

“My mother-in-law was convinced that it works and she bought us one for a Christmas gift. I was very stubborn and didn’t even want to try it out. It sat in my bathroom for about 2 weeks before I tried it! So I sat down put my feet on the SQUATTY POTTY and before I knew it I had already had a bowel movement. It was amazing! I sent a text to my mother-in-law praising her for such a great gift!”

Interesting talk at family gatherings, I image.

Anyway, this is just in time for the holiday season, people. You’re welcome.

Now go take a load off.

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Sorry, It’s Occupied

There are many things that can be said about working in an office. For better or for worse, you are forced to interact with people on a daily basis that you probably wouldn’t choose to hang out with on the weekends.

But at the end of the day, you smile and nod because you know that unlike family, at least you’re getting paid to interact with these people. What you’re not getting paid to do is become knowledgeable about their bathroom habits, but  that comes with the territory.


My office is small in that we only have about 20 people who work there, with nine women on my end. There is a bathroom for each sex located towards the front of the office, and each bathroom has two stalls. Every time someone goes into the bathroom, you can hear the door open and shut and the light and fan go on simultaneously.

This is an important detail to my story.

You see, there are certain unwritten rules, at least with the women’s bathroom. Despite the fact that there are two stalls, every woman who uses the bathroom goes in and locks the main door. (And for some reason, I also lock the stall door when I go.)

Anyway, if I walk by the bathroom and light is shining under the door, I know that the door will be locked and that someone is in there. No one ever goes and leaves the light on when they leave, because that would signal to the outside world that someone was still in there. That results in someone (me) pretending to walk somewhere else and do a lap around the office just to keep an eye on the door.

When new people come in, they must be initiated to this process.

As I mentioned above, if the light is on, one does not proceed. However, if the light is on for an inordinate amount of time, suspicions arise and one (me) must investigate. Reaching for the bathroom door and finding it unlocked when the light is already on makes me suspicious, and when I enter and find no one in the tiny bathroom, I continue to look around as if they’re hiding in the cabinet under the sink.

It’s just not natural, and I think in the four and a half years that I’ve worked there I’ve only been in the bathroom with another person once or twice. I also believe that was during a tornado warning.

At any rate, with that unwritten rule established, I feel compelled to add in a few more of my own, as I’m sure there are a some things that apply to all office bathrooms in some way.

  • Despite the fact that there are only nine women in the office, it seems that whenever I head for the bathroom, someone else will be headed there at the same time. This results in the “No, you go ahead” back-and-forth that is both tedious and awkward. You want to go, but you don’t want to be rushed. You want to be polite, but you’ve gotta go.
  • Related to that, I hate being the “next” person to use the bathroom after someone has completely disrespected the toilet and any olfactory senses. The air freshener really does nothing but make it smell like shitty “Country Meadows,” and when I come out (after holding my breath and quickly doing my thing) to find someone else waiting, I always want to point out that it wasn’t me. I don’t do this, but I want to.
  • Finally, although the general level of cleanliness is far greater than that found at the gym, there are still times I wonder if someone completely emptied a hairbrush or decided to give themselves a sponge bath in the sink. Plus, it’s kind of amazing how people will go to great lengths to NOT replace the toilet paper, hand soap or paper towel, leaving one small square or drop for the next person to handle.

I suppose if I left the door unlocked, I could catch them in the act. However, I’m not willing to break that rule.

Sorry, it’s occupied.