THE PLEASURE IS ALL MINE!

It irritates Savage Kitten when I monopolize the crapper for over an hour in the morning. What, she undoubtedly wonders, is that crazy old coot DOING in there?

Apparently the luggage I shlep into the bathroom has not sufficiently clued her in. She hardly ever takes stuff with her to go “powder a delicate nose”, whereas I seem to need an entire shopping cart.
Her: in and out. Me: sitting out the siege of Bergen op Zoom.

I thought it might be instructive to provide a list of items which are essential for the morning eliminatory and ablutionary interlude.


NECESSITIES:
Pen
Notebook
Phrasebook
Paperclips
Small slips of paper
Thumbtacks (optional)
Pocket knife OR tweezers
Cigarillos
Lighter
Matches (in case the lighter fails)
Ash tray
Coffee cup (filled, second cup of day)
Coaster
Foreign language dictionary
Reading specs


It should be obvious what all that time in the loo is about, right?
Surely I’m not the ONLY person in the whole wide world who learns while ‘sequestered’?

You probably take a similar collection of items in with you, to make your stay there as productive as possible.
Certainly paperclips, notepaper, and a steaming cup.
Maybe you don’t need a Phrasebook of Tajik (“ohe, peshkhizmat, ba man lazim ast, namak o rogan e domba” – oh waiter, please bring me salt and clarified sheep-tail fat), or a Collection of Chagatai Poems in Translation (‘my galloping heart is like a dromedary, seeking the water of your passion, oh sleek she-wolf of the steppes’), but I’m sure you have your own essentials.

Cigarettes, the NYT, and junkfood. Plus the teevee guide.
Unfinished correspondence.

Maybe a cellphone.

You wouldn’t believe how often I’ve heard flushing in the background while calling.
I’ve learned to avoid certain people at certain hours. Arnold? No, I think I’ll call him around ten-thirty, when he isn’t ‘preoccupied’. Estefan? The last time I asked about an invoice, he dropped his wallet – it took another three weeks before he gave me the new credit card number. Ludovico? Naaaa, he eats pizza Tuesday evenings, told me all about it last time.
Randall is just a little water-sprite after lunch, splashes like a kid in a fountain. So no.

I have to wonder what hand they use when answering my calls while returning the call of nature. Do they also text their nearest and dearest with those hands? Mrs. Smith, don’t answer that message! Do you know where your son’s hand has BEEN while thumbing those loving words? You should be horrified!
I am, on your behalf!

And why do they share their activities with whoever calls? Can they not delay the water sounds until AFTER we’ve taken down the minutes of the call-in meeting?
We really didn’t need to know so much about them. Trust us, we’ll just assume they’re human, they don’t need to prove it.

Please, don’t prove it.

I’d far rather people not talk to me while they’re in there. Long-distance attention is far less flattering when you keep interrupting our conversation to grab more toilet-paper.

Savage Kitten should be glad that I read while in the little boys room.
It’s a very old-fashioned habit, indicative of clean habits and correct morals.
I was raised properly.
Porcelain means private time. Not conversational opportunity.