Probably against the better judgment of someone in the recovering stages of flu, I decided to drive down to Monon, Indiana, to my aunt Donna’s house yesterday to see my mom, dad and brothers who were there visiting. It’s not that bad of a drive (1 hour if you ask Aunt Donna, a little over 2 hours for the rest of us), so I figured with them being so close I should head down and see them. I love my Aunt Donna and Uncle Stan. But, for the 95% of the people that may read this that haven’t been to their house, I’d like to talk for a moment about their bathroom situation.
My Aunt Donna’s bathroom has been a traumatic experience for me since about 4th grade, when I really started packing on the pounds. You see, their toilet is encased by two very tight walls. Of course, I took a picture so you wouldn’t think that I was making this up.
So, it’s a tight fit when you have to sit down and stay for a while. I mean, your arms have nowhere to go. At all. And the longer you’re there, the more it feels as if you’re in one of those nail-biting scenes of Scooby-Doo where the walls are closing in. Zoinks!
I spent about 7 or 8 hours there yesterday, and Aunt Donna cooked dinner for us. I ate with the rest of the family, and knew that it was inevitable that I’d have to make a trip to the bathroom before heading out for the drive home. And unfortunately, for #2.
While I’ll spare you the details, I’ll let you know that it was just as traumatic as in the 4th grade. A trauma that I just can’t seem to flush.
Logan, I have lost all respect for you. You used “there” instead of “their.”
Left by Jody on February 4th, 2008