The bathroom is the last great equalizer.
Every other room in your home, every other activity in your life can somehow be manipulated by life circumstances. Your physical appearance can affect the amount of or quality of ass in the bedroom. Your kitchen can be anything from a Bunsen burner to an organic stocked, chef manned station. For just a few extra coins, life can be lived through your phone – making the act of mutually experienced human behavior a thing of the past. Let the church say Hallelujah! This past weekend, I stayed in my bed until 130pm. I came to the conclusion that my bed had become a symbolic womb. Warm and comforting, a cozy place to retreat and develop the motor skills needed to deal with life. That day I ordered Avocados, toothpaste and Kombucha tea because I have no interest in sharing the act of shopping with others. I then ordered my laundry to be picked up because the idea of laundering with others now seems archaic. When I finally emerged to make my way to brunch I ordered my Uber because…don’t even start me on hailing a cab in public. No one does anything the same as everyone else anymore. Our bodies, our finances, our scathing hatred towards human interaction; they all affect how execute every action of life. Except shit. We all shit the same. We all must go to that room, to use that very special plumbing. There are no other location options, no fancy ways of doing it, nobody you can pay anyone to do it for you. In public settings, you all go to the public bathroom. That’s why so many great celebrity sightings happen over hands being washed. This isn’t a new revelation for me; I’ve given this a significant amount of thought. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I google questions and look in my history when I wake up to see what I was thinking. One night I googled “why is blue cheese so delicious” at 230am. I also like to make sweeping assumptions and explore ideas with my sister via text. Recently, on a sleepless night I posed the query, “isn’t it a little mind blowing to think that something as beautiful as Idris Elba probably takes massive poops all the time”. My sister didn’t answer me that night. Maybe I find a certain comfort in the fact that some daily behavior exists that unifies us. In a society where we separate further and further from each other it’s not a crazy thing to be comforted by. Prove me wrong. Next time you are on the subway and that woman leans her entire body on the pole meant for hands and you imagine yourself roundhouse kicking her in the face; think to yourself “you know what, I pooped this morning, you probably did too. who knows we may even use the same brand of toilet tissue…we’re in this turbulent road called life together” and see if your tension doesn’t subside just a little bit.