Going to the bathroom hasn't always been a private affair for me. I cannot say that it was by choice though, I am not one to pee on the side of the road if a reststop is within 100 miles. But you tell me it is 200 miles and I will probably give in and go.
When I was little, very little, I could go potty by myself but I needed help with the wiping part. I still am reminded of this fact. But at least I knew my limitations and wiping my butt was one of them. Eventually my arms grew and I could handle that little chore all on my own. But in order to be heard, I had to leave the bathroom door open. Otherwise I could have sat there for hours.
Now if I was using the upstairs bathroom at my house growing up, I never closed the door. You see, the lights in this room were hanging on either side of the mirror above the sink. They were older fixtures and you had to turn a little knob at the bottom. I couldn't reach the knob without putting my other hand on the sink for support. For whatever reason (I am no electrician) I would get shocked. Well, when one already has to pee, the idea of throwing a shock in the mix was not very appealing so I learned to turn the hall light on and leave the bathroom door open. I still had privacy because the toilet was behind the open door.
Fast forward to 1992. I had privacy up until we moved back to California and Ashlyn was walking. I didn't dare shut the door because when ever I did, she found something to get into. And as soon as I could trust her, Hayley was walking, then it was the naughty dog. Peeing in privacy was a distant, yet fond memory. And wasn't just peeing, if I were taking a bath, then important things had to be discussed! Or someone wanted to drink bath water (Leisl) or someone else wanted to "just put my fingers in".
And then privacy came back. I remember an some point that I made the 3 B Rule. I could only be disturbed in the bathroom if someone was broken, bleeding or barfing. It was such a wonderful rule. Sometimes I went in the bathroom to do nothing but enjoy the privacy!
Today, two of my children have moved out and my third child understands the idea of a closed door. But privacy still alludes me. And I am being invaded upon for no good reason. I have pets. Pets have no idea what personal space is. They think that they are welcome everywhere, at all times.
Our bathroom door sticks a little when you close it. I am in the habit of not forcing it closed because I make such a racket trying to open it and Danny is often sleeping when I am in there. So I just kind of swing it shut and go about my business. Well it turns out that a closed bathroom door is an open invitation to a cat. If it is Sophie, she will knead her little paws against the door and meow mournfully. If it is Elsa, she will just meow in her three packs of Camels a day voice and rub the door. If either of them can muster the strength to get the door open, they will slink through the smallest crack possible. And then there's Emmitt. Emmitt is twice the cat that the girls are. He talks all the time. ALL THE TIME. He has no inside voice, doesn't consider that Danny is sleeping, has no regard for my privacy. He busts open any closed door, especially bathroom doors, leaves them wide open, yells about something and runs out. And there I am, just sitting there too far from the door to reach and close it and too unprepared to throw something at the damn cat.
I feed them, I love them and in return, all I ask is a little privacy, please!
No comments:
Post a Comment