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The other day at a rest stop, I was almost blasted out of my bathroom stall by a jet of water that exploded prematurely from the toilet bowl. Okay not really, but still. Someone has to explain to the auto-flush manufacturers that toileting is a multi-stage process. We shift, we lift, we twist. As it is, if you move a muscle midway, pwa-CHOOSHHHHHHHH! A highly undesirable geyser. It’s not just me. I’ve seen tasseled loafers on the floor of the stall next to me. pwa-CHOOSHHHHHHH! Loafers don’t move. Still working on it. I've even encountered panicked toilets, stuck in a perpetual flushing loop, pumping torrents down the drain. These things are springing up everywhere – schools, arenas, office buildings – wreaking havoc. Has anyone said anything? Where is the suggestion box? Where is the national office of public flushing? Someone’s got to tell them to go back to the drawing board on this one. We should start a movement. And finish it, without getting wet. My 60th year in 60,000 words Day 36: 163 words, TOTAL = 5421; 54,579 remaining  |
AuthorRobin Clifford Wood is a writer and writing teacher. She lives in central Maine with her husband and dogs, loves to be outdoors, and enjoys ever-expanding horizons through her grown children and their multi-species families. Archives
January 2021
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