Littering

I would like to refute recent news reports which say I spend most of my time dreaming up lurid fantasies involving me covered in grape jelly chasing Beyonce naked around a hardware store. I never spend more than, say, 90% of my time that way so don’t think I’m weird or anything. 

Most of my awake hours are spent dreaming about where I’ll put a urinal in my new garden shed. 

In my old garage, I had installed a lovely personal drainage device in a discreet back corner.  It was just a piece of pipe stuck through the wall, but it was a wonder since I didn’t have to leave my shop to relieve myself, it was at my exact height, there was no lid to put down after, no perfumed soap, nothing.  Hygiene freaks are allowed to go “Ewww!” at this point in the narrative.      

This relief tube was installed because before, if I felt the need to go, I’d have to throw sawdust over my head to make it look like I had actually been doing something out there, then head into the house, take off my shoes, receive instructions from my spouse about more things that needed doing, piddle, then reverse the process and go back outside.  It just wasn’t worth it.

With my handy dandy WhizzMate, I could just walk into the corner and go.  I didn’t have to worry about a thing.  Well, other than lurking spiders.  I did fret about those.  Thankfully, spider attacks on my personal thing never happened, although the thought of it has caused more than a little anxiety, lack of sleep, loss of bladder control, and post-traumatic stress. 

I was ruminating on all this recently, since I have a new way of doing my business, you’ll be pleased to know. 

As the slave to two adorable kittens, we now have an abundance of what is called ‘stink.’  We also have a bunch of kitty litter.  As a new cat owner, I was unfamiliar with this wonderful substance.  It not only covers up cat doots, it clumps up when pee hits it.  It’s amazing!

I was cleaning it (the litter) the other day (since the kids had promised they would do it), and I had a wonderful, guy-type idea, which involved one of the kids finding a clump of litter the size of a bowling ball, courtesy me.

This light comedy daydream gave rise to an actual, ingenious idea.  For a change, it did not involve singers, dancers, jelly, power tools or rubber cement.

Here’s the deal.  Waking up in the middle of the night having to go to the bathroom is terribly annoying, as we all know.  Getting out of bed and padding off to the bathroom wakes me up and it is sometimes difficult getting back to sleep.  Ask any cat.

What I do now is flip back the covers and just let fly over the side of the bed into my own, personal litter box!  No more stepping on Hot Wheels cars on my way to the bathroom.  No more waking up the house because I stub my toe, or trip over something, or sleepily lift the lid of the laundry hamper instead of the toilet and, well, never mind.    I’m free from all that.

I not only sleep better but in the morning I just scoop my own litter and behold my signature, elegantly written in hardened granules, suitable for framing. 

I’m still getting used to gently spreading the stuff with my feet afterwards, but I’ll get there eventually. 

My wife also reports my purring is still extremely loud, but she does like the smell of grape jelly. 

Toilet Issues

Bathrooms are wonderful places and not just because it is there you can squat naked over your spouse’s hairdryer to dry off your bits.

That may be information you didn’t wish to know about me. Nevermind.

What I really wanted to say here is, as chief bathroom cleaner in our house, I have been thinking about the effects advertising has had on our sense of cleanliness in the throne room, or “visiting Mrs. Murphy” as my Mom used to call it.

Why, for example, do we demand that our toilets smell like toothpaste? Have scientists deduced that peppermint is the most effective agent for killing bacteria? My immediate suspicion is that this research is a canine conspiracy that was formulated so they don’t have to spend so much money on mouthwash.

Given the methods currently employed by dogs to ‘freshen’ themselves, I somehow don’t think gargling with minty fresh blue water is going to help much. In fact, I would enjoy seeing a dog gargle period.

I have yet to see an ad campaign telling me the dangers of leaving fingernail clippings in the sink or bathtub mind you. That particular delinquency is brought to most husbands’ attention early in the marriage. Probably on the honeymoon. Maybe on the wedding night. Something like that. First date maybe.

Ahem.

I also got busted once cleaning the sink with the toilet brush. My argument, bravely and I think concisely put forward, was “But honey, you don’t actually eat out of your sink – why should it matter…?”

The phrase “Went over like a lead balloon” was perhaps coined in honour of this cogent but fruitless reasoning.

It failed utterly.

I became a truly outstanding toilet cleaner not only by right of occupancy (according to statements made by my completely disloyal relatives and offspring), but as a result of an embarrassing injury long ago in a past life.

This may seem obvious but believe it or not some toilets are smaller than others.

Speaking as a larger man in terms of body size, and not necessarily size of the, uh, sensitive personal region, this can pose some difficulties.

For example, when a man assumes the throne, what will occasionally happen is his (sensitive personal region) will touch the side of the toilet itself.

Now the cleaning agent in most cleaners is hydrochloric acid.

Let me just repeat that for female readers: HYDROCHLORIC ACID!!

A female, and let me take pains here to assure you it was not my wonderful spouse I am talking about here, accidentally left some toilet cleaner on the edges of the bowl and seat.

If you have ever had any HYDROCHLORIC ACID touch your hands, you will know that it can cause some mild discomfort. A burning sensation if you will.

Having it touch more sensitive tissue has been known to cause panic and alarm in many male individuals.

Can you understand what I’m delicately trying to phrase here?

I imagine a visit to the emergency department would be interesting…

“I have a burning sensation on my sensitive personal region!”

“How often do you visit prostitutes Mr. Scumbag?”

“No no – not that kind of burning. I think a chemical actually touched my (sensitive personal region) and now it hurts”.

“What kind of chemical would do that?”

“Toilet bowl cleaner”

“Why were you cleaning the toilet bowl with your thing, Mr. Crawford?”

“I wasn’t. It’s a long story – please get the fire hose…”

Perhaps I should write an advertising jingle:

“You’ll wonder where your husband went

If you clean your bowl with Pepsodent…”

Or perhaps it should be a public service announcement:

“Your mate has gone flaccid

Cause you’re scrubbing with ACID…”

Anyway – I am now, and always will be, the official and most talented, thorough cleaner of toilets in our house. Perhaps the world.

Believe me – I don’t mind. It is not a chore. I rinse well. Really well.