Since it’s my last day in Minnesota, I feel I can finally complain a little about my lodging. More specifically, the toilet. We’ve been staying at my mother-in-law’s house, and I love her (really, I do) and truly appreciate her letting us live here for nearly two weeks rent-free, but would it be too much to ask for her to buy a larger toilet seat?
I’m not a fat bastard, not yet at least, but sitting on this thing should be an Olympic Event. You have to carefully position yourself over the target, slowly slide down and then tuck your junk under the front rim (and trying to avoid the freezing touch of the ceramic bowl with its swarming microorganisms), while simultaneously checking your clearance in back to make sure nothing disastrously embarrassing is about to happen. I haven’t felt this challenged since my 6th-grade Easter Egg Hunt.
I have to admit, I’ve gotten fairly good at it, and can now manage the task in 4.7 seconds flat, but when I had the chance to make a bagel run today I took it, knowing from my previous visit they have one of those big industrial-sized toilets with a stall the size of a small house. Luxury.
The good news is, at least now I know what to get my mother-in-law for Christmas.