By RAYMOND CUMMINGS
Not only is what we bring to a bathroom experience and what we ultimately leave behind one and the same, it isn't especially pleasant to dwell on or gaze down upon. But gaze we must. Because - and it pains me to say this, really, it does - I've noticed a unfortunate tendency on the part of public restroom patrons lately: they evacuate, flush weakly, then bolt. (I'll save my diatribe on the importance of lathering and washing hands for another time.) As a result, the process of deciding which stall to occupy - a process that shouldn't require much thought at all – more often than not turns into a gruesome game of eenie-meenie-mo.
Sometimes, it's necessary to hang around a minute to see whether everything is sucked into the sewer system. (If you've clogged the bowl, don't stroll away whistling as though nothing happened. Have the decency to let someone - someone with a plunger, ideally - know that the bowl is clogged; you don't have to identity yourself as the culprit.)
Sometimes, you need to flush twice to cover your tracks.
Sometimes, you only need to flush once, but to initiate the flushing mechanism, you've really gotta put your wrist, maybe your whole forearm, into the act of moving that handle. For the love of God, do this. Hold your breath, close your eyes, whatever you've gotta do, but strain and concentrate until you've flushed that bowl clean.
Karma.
Not only is what we bring to a bathroom experience and what we ultimately leave behind one and the same, it isn't especially pleasant to dwell on or gaze down upon. But gaze we must. Because - and it pains me to say this, really, it does - I've noticed a unfortunate tendency on the part of public restroom patrons lately: they evacuate, flush weakly, then bolt. (I'll save my diatribe on the importance of lathering and washing hands for another time.) As a result, the process of deciding which stall to occupy - a process that shouldn't require much thought at all – more often than not turns into a gruesome game of eenie-meenie-mo.
Sometimes, it's necessary to hang around a minute to see whether everything is sucked into the sewer system. (If you've clogged the bowl, don't stroll away whistling as though nothing happened. Have the decency to let someone - someone with a plunger, ideally - know that the bowl is clogged; you don't have to identity yourself as the culprit.)
Sometimes, you need to flush twice to cover your tracks.
Sometimes, you only need to flush once, but to initiate the flushing mechanism, you've really gotta put your wrist, maybe your whole forearm, into the act of moving that handle. For the love of God, do this. Hold your breath, close your eyes, whatever you've gotta do, but strain and concentrate until you've flushed that bowl clean.
Karma.
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