Am I the Only One?

When you are home schooling one of your children, it isn't exactly a pass to do stuff around the house whenever you feel like it.

As with a school teacher, you must attend to your student. Sometimes, that feels like being a buzzard, neck craned over the chair, hovering, waiting for a problem to be finished so you can see if said child got it or didn't and whether you are going to have to go in for the "kill" again*.

As we've been approaching the last week of school, though, the lesson plans have relaxed some and I've found myself placing review sheets and final tests and, admittedly, some work I, myself, consider "busy"**, in front of him.

And I found myself in the most interesting of spots today: able to actually leave the table and go to the bathroom. All by myself. While my son worked.

The music from the Olympics played in my head as I headed toward the potty. The room of solitude. A place of peace, if only for a few moments.

But, upon entering, I realized, "Something is afoul."

See, I cleaned/restocked this bathroom recently. It is the guest bathroom so, truly, it gets little use. But, still.

On the floor in front of the sink was a comic book. To the right of the toilet was a toy Batman on a motorcycle, reminiscent of "The Dark Knight"***. A crumpled piece of paper towel sat helplessly on the counter. And, on the floor, a piece of something that looked like, had I not used the paper towel to pick it up, it might have petrified within a few days.

And, I discovered, a little too late, there was no toilet paper and no hand towel.

Interestingly, the one thing that WAS right, yet SO WRONG, was the cleanliness of the sink. Really, if people have been using this bathroom, as evidenced by the bizarre collection of stuff strewn around, shouldn't there be SOME evidence of this? Splashes on the mirror from the sink? A gob of Bath and Body Works "Nectarine Mint" soap in the bowl? Running water?

But, nyet. Nadda. No proof at all.

I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, a clean freak. But I DO insist on clean hands. Maybe it's the cook in me, but it really sends me through the roof when I see someone leave the bathroom who hasn't bothered to wash their hands. I want to yell "I really don't like the thought of your excrement all over stuff I might accidentally touch after you do." GAAAAH.

And, clearly, this bathroom was crime scene evidence if I had ever seen it.

The good news? It only took me about five minutes of calling to get toilet paper. And now there is a blob of orangish, nectarine smelling hand cleanser in the bowl.

Somehow I felt vindicated by that little bit of soap. Proof that SOMEONE in this family washes hands.

Take that Horatio.****




*AKA reteaching.

**That's what his "regular" school is doing so I figure what's good for the goose is good for the gander. Right?

***So this made for a happy event because I got to think of Christian Bale. Sadly, my thought was almost immediately ruined by a quick recollection of his nasty temper. Darn.

****I will only watch CSI episodes if I am physically unable to leave the bed to change the channel. But, this character's name, due to sheer gosh-awfulness, has stuck with me like a bad case of food poisoning.