Bathroom Update

I was sitting at the Annual Meeting for the non-profit where I am a board member, and all I wanted to do was go home. A massive headache was pulsing behind the thick bone of my forehead, my ass was numb from the cheap plastic seats, and I was concerned that the elderly lady next to me was going to flop into my lap. I wanted my sweats and a smoke and I wanted them now.

The meeting finally broke up (and somewhat earlier than expected) and I rapidly made my escape. Aside from another driver with the mistaken assumption that he was at a 4-way stop intersection, the drive home proceeded without incident. At about the half-way point, I wondered if any progress had been made on my bathroom ceiling. I cautioned myself not to get too excited.

When I got home, I dropped my stuff and walked directly to the bathroom. Lo and behold, there was no apparent progress on the ceiling. There was, however, fresh mess, so I know that someone was in my bathroom. Whether it was to fix the ceiling, or to merely scatter new debris, I may never know. I pitched a bit of a fit - stomping and whining like a two-year old. I fed my cats and sat down to blog.

Here's the rub: I had a topic all picked out. I was quoted Elizabeth Kubler-Ross at the meeting. After doing a bit of checking, I discovered that the quote was actually a combination of two different quotes. I realized that when the quotes were read separately, Ms. Kubler-Ross was saying something very different. I was all riled up about the misquote. It went something like: "If we can raise just one generation to know unconditional love there will be fewer Hitlers." I started thinking about the nature side of the nature v. nurture argument and my Intro to Soc classes came flooding back. I was ready to discuss.

Then I saw my bathroom. I don't even have the energy to clean up the new mess. I KNEW it would be dirty when I got home, but part of me had all my fingers and toes crossed. I know I'm going to have to clean it before I go to bed because who wants to deal with a gritty bathroom floor, or toilet, or sink first thing in the a.m.? Big, fat "Not I" coming from my corner. Sigh, off I go.