What better way to follow up a spiritual blog than with a blog about a gross bodily function. A while back I was in my bathroom and I let one rip. Unfortunately, the walls in my bathroom are thin. I can hear the elderly couple that lives next to me banter and sometimes bicker.
Imagine the horror that pulsed through my body when I heard the husband say to the wife, “Did you fart?” Which the wife of course vehemently denied then counter accused the husband of farting. This went back and forth without either one budging. I could have settled their argument by flushing my toilet. Their trust in each other would have been restored but then they would know it was me, their next door neighbor that let one go. I stayed there, as I was, for over 15 minutes. They’ll just have to go to a marriage counselor because I wasn’t about let Edith and Archie in on my bathroom business.
I was basically held hostage in my bathroom by my own noisy flatulence. At least it wasn’t a silent yet deadly one. A man should be able to “express” himself in his own bathroom. Wouldn’t you know, the one time I don’t blare Jack FM from my bathroom radio during a “session” and I get called out like that. There’s no way Ma & Pa hear my vapor if I had Thin Lizzy blasting. I could have simply timed my releases to the baseline of “The Boys Are Back in Town.”
I take nothing for granted now and I turn on my bathroom radio when I brush my teeth or blow my nose or smooth out my eyebrows.