You know what really grinds my gears? When people don't flush the toilet after they finish using it. I'm not talking about public bathrooms, I'm talking about residential here. Oh, and I'm way beyond being merely annoyed at seeing yellow water in the toilet when I use someone's bathroom. After being accused of not flushing during a social gathering at a total stranger's house, seeing an unflushed toilet brings out the worst in me.
Recently, I went to an outdoor get-together at someone's house out in the woods with a cousin of mine here in Alabama. There were lots of people, lots of food, drink and music.
My hands were getting sticky from the food I was eating, so I asked the real-life Grandma if I could use the water hose to rinse off. She insisted I go inside the house and wash my hands in the bathroom. When I walked in the house, there were kids running around everywhere, and I noticed a couple of guys around my age playing a video game as I walked down the hall. I walked into the huge bathroom . The toilet was damn-near around the corner. I washed my hands and then dried them. I looked in the mirror. I played with my phone. I spent a nice little while in there. Little did I know, there was a massive pile of poop in and on the side of the toilet.
I obliviously left the bathroom as Video Game Player One passed me to go in.
I walked back outside to where my cousin and the real-life Grandma were talking. Shortly after, kids started pouring out the house yelling, "ugggghhhhhh, boo-boo!", repeatedly. Since I didn't know who this "Boo-Boo" person was, I turned back to the conversation. The kids ran up and starting pointing at me saying that I boo-booed in the bathroom and didn't clean it up. Then Video Game Player One walked out telling everyone that I pooped all over the real-life Grandma's bathroom and didn't care enough to clean it up. I was crushed. I tried defending myself but it didn't work. A feeling of defeat came over me as I went from Mr. Chap, that guy who made that song about Walmart that people like so much, to Mr. Poopy McDoo-Doo: Bathroom Defamer.
I couldn't help feeling like I did the first day of Second grade when I pooped on myself and got found out. I was six years old, fresh out of Kindergarten. I had skipped First grade and I was at this new school around all these older people. Before I did it, I was afraid to ask to go to the bathroom. I don't know man, I just shat my pants. What do you want from me? I was six. Anyway, I made it through lunch and everything. I made it through the second half of the day, even got on the bus to go home. Of course the bus smelled like s***, but I played it off. At least I tried to. Pretending to help, I fanned my own essence around. As long as they didn't say it was me, I was okay. We were just a couple of blocks from home when one of the neighborhood kids pointed at me and yelled, "it's him!"
That same feeling I had on that first day of Second grade was the feeling I had walking to the car.
Since then, it really grinds my gears when people don't flush or wipe the seat before they leave, so I look for violators. When I go to use someone's bathroom, I'm going straight to the toilet, and if there's anything other than clear water in there, I'm letting it be known. I'll never be done the way those people did me again.