Multi-tasking
A long time ago, my friend Louie Hare told me the secret of working at Hyvee. He worked there during high school and breaks during college. He said that the most joy he had ever felt was taking a deuce on the clock. He explained that as an hourly employee, the 15 minutes he spent on the terlet at work were justified as nature’s calling and he revelled in knowing that he was being paid to poop.
I’ve always remembered Louie’s words. At work I will often take what I refer to as a “boy poop” and spend as much time leisurely defecating, with reading material or without.
Recently, I’ve been brainstorming a way to make sure I floss every day. As a nightly habit, I often forget because I’m too tired, and lazy. It doesn’t make sense to floss in the morning, because I haven’t eaten anything yet. It occurred to me that I ought to floss at work, after lunch. The benefits of daily flossing are aplenty. Flossing at work means that I’m spending that much more time in the loo, and I’m getting paid for it.
I’ve been work-flossing for about a week, and I’ve noticed that I’ve not missed a day. I think it’s Louie’s perspective on pooping that is gleefully sending me to the ladies room to floss. It’s like I’m a child and I’ve tricked myself into liking it.
(One thing that I’ve learned in the pooping/dental care realm is that I can’t handle pooping and brushing my teeth at the same time. I think it’s the combination of minty frothy cleaning action in my mouth, feeling like the opposite of having a good shit. Just in case you were wondering why I don’t floss and poo at the same time.)
How can you tarry on the pot with or without reading material? Every time I sit down and start a dook without *something* to read, I experience that little burst of panic similar to the one you feel when you realize you’ve left your keys in the car as you’re closing the door, but are too late to stop the inevitable click and latch. I hate it.
I don’t like output without input
I spend a lot of time staring at my cuticles. It’s somewhat productive, because otherwise it’s a bitch when you go to paint them.
I think advertisers are really missing the boat – there are some adverts up on the stall doors in public bathrooms, but why not keep pamphlets in there, or stuff on the walls? I think the success would outweigh the waste of pamphlets used as toilet paper.
So that’s where you are when I swing by to chat!
I’m little disturbed, but incredibly amused by this post (I think because my bro-in-law works construction and the use of “deuce” reminds me of hanging out with him and his crew).
I am in complete agreement on the flossing/poo’ing line in the sand. The best thing about our house is the extra bathrooms — because you can do your business in the 2nd bathroom or downstairs but brush your teeth in the master bath. Such luxury.
I don’t spend a whole lot of time on the pot, but my own brain tends to be plenty of company for me in there. It’s like being in the shower. As soon as I enter the terlet room, my mind starts wandering. I often find myself standing in the shower ten minutes after getting in and realizing that I haven’t actually started to clean myself yet. I think deucing has a more well-defined end-point, so I don’t get stuck in my reverie. You can stand under hot water forever, but once you’ve dropped a deuce, you’ve got no choice but to finish the ritual and move on.