Thoughts on Bathrooms

Foreword: My apologies if the topic of this post does not meet the standards of propriety, refinement, and grace of anyone who reads it. I feel like I did an acceptable job at being gracious in what I had to express today.

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I'm writing to end the several week absence I've had from the blog. Truth be told, I've actually started a few posts that have stayed in the draft stage--which is most definitely for the best. I know, I know... so much for "dauntless debut." Anyway, because the dauntless crusader in me is failing today, I'm going to skirt around everything I want to talk about and tell you something quirky about me instead. I love bathrooms.

Now don't jump to any obvious conclusions; that's not where I'm headed in this post, although thank goodness out-houses are no longer the rage. ("Indoor plumbing, it's gonna be big...") For me, bathrooms are just great. A lot of my deepest thinking is done in bathrooms. If I were to unlock the secrets of the universe, it would most likely be in a bathroom. On the flip side, the bathroom is a place where I can just turn my brain off--I can't put a price on the lulling hum of the bathroom fan or the shower. I try to be consciously conservative about my showers (my Dad would be proud), but I know there are many days where I could just let life melt away in the hot water for probably forty-five minutes and not get sick of it.

At school, solitude can be tough to find. I share a room with two of the best girls I know (cough cough, vertical sleeping column, Madeleine; and Katie, I don't care how many times you say it, your stuff has NOT exploded throughout the room) but even when you live with the best, you still don't really have a place you can call your own. Of course we all share the bathroom, but when it's occupied, the inherent nature of bathrooms grants temporary sole ownership to the occupant. (Unless, of course, there is a leg-shaving party going on. Feel free to join--the more the merrier! We'll change the world one smooth leg at a time. Note: BYOR. (Bring your own razor.)) My use of bathrooms for the ultimate college getaway is a little pathetic and is probably an infringement of the unwritten bathroom bill of rights, but on this point, I'm going to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. (Of course, banking on the "seventy times seven" rule.)

Lately, when I've retreated to the bathroom, I haven't wanted to leave. Yeah, that might sound disgustingly unpleasant on first thought, but don't you just think there's some sort of safe feeling in that little 4'x4' room with no windows, a lock on the door, weirdly soft, yellow lighting, and the fan drowning out everyone and everything? (Except the occasional bang/kick on the door from Suzanne. Love you, Suz.) I don't know, maybe I'm crazy. Crazy or not, though, I know that bathrooms have saved my bacon more than once.

So to bathrooms everywhere, I thank you. Thanks for being the no one I needed when I need it most. Thanks for having awesome fans. Thanks for the times when you are clean and pristine. (At least in my apartment, that's pretty standard.) You're just great all around.