Bathroom Blues

Any Other Business?

Dear All,

To help address the ridiculous amount of $ I pay each month in rent I am forced to strap vacuum packed, zip locked bags to my legs and fly...

Ah just kidding, the truth is far more innocent yet none the less terrifying; I elect to share a bathroom.

In the beginning my frugality paid off and I lived in relative bathroom harmony with a woman across the yonder. Our unnatural relationship aided in part by questionable emotional intelligence that allows me to live in a world where women use washrooms differently than men, and the fact that while she wouldn't necessarily be the first person I'd like to picture on the throne, our schedules never really conflicted.

That all changed last week when a moving van pulled up and the landlord substituted in a replacement. Any mystery regarding the compatibility of my com-pot-riot was quickly answered on Friday afternoon when I entered the facility to be greeted by mounds of wet hair locks coating the basinet and shower floor. Judging by the variety of hair, who or whatever it was, had had help and was now pruned and primed for some poolside summer fun.

Needless to say, alarms were quickly raised and an emergency meeting held with guest house senior management (the older of two cousins). I expressed my concerns in a brief, but intense interpretive dance and was assured the beast would have constructed his own grooming facility, within his cage, before the end of the month.

Mercifully, the construction workers arrived today and therefore so to should end the story of me having to share a lavatory.

Small victories,

Mw