I Can Pretty Much Guarantee that Puddle You’re Standing in isn’t Water

I hate public restrooms.  Hate them.  I avoid them as much as possible.

Want to know what I hate even more than public restrooms?  Airplane Lavs.  Yep.  Hate them.  Would rather end up with a kidney infection than use one of those.  They are disgusting.  Period.  I mean, puh-lease, just take a moment to think about it.

A teeny tiny closet zooming 40,000 feet above ground, bouncing around in turbulence, used by hundreds of other people between paltry at best cleanings, the place people go to ‘clean up’ after vomiting, to poop, to pee, change dirty diapers, join the mile high club (Just shoot me now.  Somebody, anybody…. Please?  Please shoot me?  Pretty please?), floss their teeth, clip their toenails, trim their nose hair, you name it.  What’s not to hate?

To my dying day, I will always wonder what the thought process is of someone who comes rushing to the back of the plane during boarding, desperate to know if there is still time to use the lav.  Because, you know, there wasn’t any time to use the bathroom inside the terminal, right next to the departure gate, while sitting in the boarding area for the previous 45 minutes.  Now come on, folks.  You’ve just been out in an airport terminal that has, in comparison, far more spacious and most likely cleaner by a longshot facilities.  Yet the first thing you do after finding your seat on the airplane is head toward the lav.  I mean, people are still boarding, for crying out loud!  You could still be out in the terminal — go use the toilet that hasn’t been bounced around at 300 mph!

But if nature is calling, and there is no possible way to get around that fact, by all means, use the lav.  Just please, please don’t go in there barefoot or in stocking feet.  I can pretty much guarantee that puddle you are standing in isn’t water!  And get your business done quickly — less time for all that nastiness to penetrate your clothing.  Oh, and wash up for heaven’s sake!  And be sure to shut and lock the door while you are in there.  Close the door on your way out, too.  Everyone in that vicinity will be eternally grateful for that.

So that’s my airplane rant of the day.  Yuck!

Oh. My. Stars.  Did he….?  No.  Please no.  Oh Lordy, he did!  He just so totally walked in there with his Kindle!

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Not Gonna Happen. Not Yet, Anyway.

I’ve a lot of catching up to do.  Between losing a St. Bernard over the Thanksgiving holiday (I mean seriously, how does such a huge, slobbering bundle of untethered energy just vanish?!) and the Christmas tree that could have ended my marriage (a yearly tradition); taking to the skies again after 6 years of my feet being firmly planted on solid ground, as well as a wee hours of the morning robbery in a Sea-Tac sky bridge; and a little internet side business that has gone gangbusters (at least in comparison to my original expectations), I have a whole lot of ground to cover!

But I have a teeny tiny problem.  I don’t want to write.  Call it writer’s block, a slump, the blues, or just a generally bad attitude (read that one to the tune of Kenny Chesney, and how can you help but not get a little kick in your step?), but what it all boils down to is that I just don’t want to do it.  Just like my two year old always says when he doesn’t want to pick up his toys, “Nope.  Don’t want to!” could be my mantra as well.

So I am going to sit on this blog a little while longer, and keep feeling the guilt of my neglect, and cross my fingers, and hope like mad that the words will soon find their way back to me, and I will once again look forward to tapping a keyboard and sharing my stories.  And when that day comes, I promise to tell you all about the time that a passenger……

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