Restrooms are scary

Restrooms are dangerous places, Republican senators from Idaho notwithstanding. The most obvious accident is stepping on a bar of soap while you are in the tub. Probably the worst feeling in the world is when you start to feel your foot slide out from under you and your mind's eye gives you a preview of the next 1.5 seconds, and you know there is nothing you can do to stop it. You frantically reach for the loofa hanging from the shower head to steady your fall as you crash through the shower curtain, taking the loofa and the shower rod with you as you bounce off the counter and the toilet on the way to the bathroom floor. Your wife rushes in at the sound to see you lying on the ground, looking like a greased hippopotamus wrapped in a shower curtain, victoriously clutching her blue and white loofa in one upraised hand.

Lesson number one: it is easy to overestimate the structural integrity of a loufa. Lesson number two: don't use soap in the shower.

As bad as this is, it pales in comparison to when you are soaking in your lavender-scented bubble bath and the microwave you keep on the edge of the tub falls in, electrocuting you and really wrecking havoc on your bubbles. No kidding, I once saw a warning on the side of a microwave box suggesting this might be a bad idea. It seems to me that those who need to be warned against this sort of action shouldn't be. This would facilitate their removal from the gene pool. Admittedly, it does make enjoying three Lynn Wilson burritos with cheese, salsa, and sour cream in your lavender-scented bubble bath less convenient.

And then, of course, there is this guy. I don't know the details behind this one, but after I saw that picture I didn't go into a restroom for a week.

I am going to add sneezing to the list. Hypothetically speaking, you could be leaning against the wall one Sunday morning, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of the warm water as it runs down your body when you get the urge to sneeze. A simple, natural reaction of the body. Harmless. It can even feel good. Right up until you drive your forehead into the tiled wall you were leaning against. You are then stuck with trying to explain to your wife what the loud thud was and why you came out of the shower with a red mark on your forehead that wasn't there when you went in.

Me? I'd say I stepped on a bar of soap. Hypothetically speaking.

mw