Occupado

It may have been suggested at one time or another that I lack awareness of other people's needs and feelings, domestically speaking. By that I mean some have felt that I fail to consider how the things I do and don't do around the house affect those I live with. That's a valid opinion, and often one which I would agree with. I didn't grow up as an only child, but I have spent most of my life with restroom facilities at my private disposal that the necessity of sharing would introduce a largely new wrinkle to life. I recall a level of co-existence at summer camp, and full sharing in the college dorms. Those experiences were ostensibly for learning, happening as they did while under the auspices of Boy Scouts and an institution of higher education. By now I should be able to cope with occasional inacessibility of the bathroom.

I sort of can do that. I at least don't try to beat down the bathroom door when my roommate is in there, no matter how much I have to go. The number of times when we both want in there is few, and the number of times when the need for each of us is dire fewer still, but I'm afraid that on those rare occasions, the urgency I feel turns my heart in a rather dark direction where my roommate is concerned. A nicer, more fun roommate you could not reasonable expect, and yet a locked bathroom door conjures up some venomous thoughts indeed. I try to deflect them to a safe recipient, such as a chronically unpopular legislative body. Really, there's nothing to be done about the root cause, so it's about serenity- a concept I'm trying to embody. My mantra has become, "What are you gonna do?"

I wonder though if there is something I could do. So far, I have not found the favored showering times of myself and of my roommate to coincide, so that simplifies and clarifies the nature of any possibly remedy. Certainly there's only one bathroom, and even if I possessed the know-how to add another, it would probably violate the terms of the unit's lease. That leaves only the discovery of an existing second bathroom within a reasonable distance of the first. A survey of unlocked bathrooms in nearby retail and dining establishments might be done. That may make me a redneck, depending on how narrowly one defines the term. I guess that if my choice of what gets hurt is between my bladder and my feelings, I know what I generally pick.

Really though, I don't think that line of inquiry will result in anything, so I'll just have to deal with waiting a few minutes for the bathroom sometimes like the mature adult that I am. Sharing a bathroom again will surely improve me, forcing me to plan and to learn patience. There may be some pains, of course. When I'm reminded of the conditions under which most of the world goes to the bathroom, though, I'm apt to slump my shoulders, hang my head and mumble that it's not too bad.