We are off to the MREA Energy Fair for the weekend. I decided to get some things cleaned up so when coming back on Sunday the place was not such an offensive scene of scattered clothes and diapers. Most times when we leave you’d think we were running with the feds hot on our heels. Sandwiches half eaten. Some electronic device left on. The quiet static of a baby monitor. Supplies that didn’t make the final cut thrown on beds and tables. Who are these people? Why the rush?

This time we started cleaning in advance. I had packed the tent and sleeping bags the night before. Now, with reward talk in full force Hoyt and Lila frantically clean their rooms (some days it works, most not) and Iris watches on with her one year old notebook pad. She doesn’t write down a single note. Mostly because she can’t, but deep down also because she knows this isn’t the kind of thing to learn (cleaning, that is).

With extra time, I decide to clean the bathroom. I’m a master at cleaning mirrors. My skills wane as I get closer to the floor. I don’t think I’m too bad at cleaning the toilet. But suddenly I spot a big problem. The problem is next to the toilet. The problem is a magazine holder. When we were first married I had removed the magazine holder from the bathroom and on occasion (very seldom) it makes its way back in there. Women are comforted by a place to put the reading material. It’s organized. And what could be worse than bringing those magazines into the bathroom and having them come back out again.

Here’s the problem in a nutshell. Women, listen to me here. Men pee on magazines. Seriously. Now, if you’ve got a magazine holder of some sort next to your toilet and you have boys in the house, you may actually be delusional (I hate to be the one to break it to you). Now, men don’t pee on magazines on purpose. In fact, to some it may be a distinct challenge to not pee on the magazines. But it just happens. No man of any age can know what’s going to happen at that first morning pee. I’m not even joking. It’s a total crap shoot, even if you’ve been peeing most of your life. You just never know. The worst of all code red pees is the “split pee” or as some may refer to it, the “pee fork”. This is the most annoying way to start your day and it just reinforces the fact that everything in the world is still out of your control. Here you’ve been doing this most of your life and you can’t even make water come from your body in a straight line. You become a human sprinkler system, spraying in three directions putting out the fire of  – let’s just say – life. All the magazines need to go. So, keep the magazines out of the bathroom unless you want “O” magazine to become “P” magazine.

After throwing the magazines out of the bathroom I lifted to toilet lid to discover the small brown whale that was left behind by a three year old in a hurry. I like the idea of multi-tasking, so as I reached for the flusher I also reached down to the floor to pick up a scant piece of toilet paper that was left unused in the rush. In a flash I realized my mistake. My miscalculation. My slow motion Noooo meant nothing to the present day regular time. As the brown whale dove deep (probably scared by the flushing noise) the water from the power of the flush swirled and all met in the middle. The water then picked a delegate and sent that lone spray up to delicately kiss me on the side of my face and corner of my lips. It then laughed and swirled away on its own trip.

I washed my face and got in the car to leave for our weekend. When we get back from a weekend of camping, that disgusting bathroom will look good to me again. I will forgive that toilet sea. I will talk to my wife once again, about why we don’t have magazines in the bathroom.

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