Tuesday, May 25, 2010


We have the handsoap in our guest bathroom on the left side of the faucet. And when I say 'we,' you know, of course, I mean 'me.'

It's a thing. I know.

Like the toilet paper roll going over, not under.

It's my thing, okay?

But every single time I come into the bathroom, it's moved up on the counter about 8 inches.

Which is, of course, a good thing because it clearly means that someone is washing (or at least pretending to wash) their hands.

So, I move it back, wipe the counter, rehang the handtowel.

A few hours later, wash, rinse, repeat. It's back up on the counter 8 inches from where I left it.

I move it back, wipe the counter, rehang the handtowel.

Heading up before bedtime, closing up the downstairs, and lo and behold, the handsoap has migrated once again.

Move soap back, wipe counter, rehang towel. And up to bed.

The following morning before we leave for school, I'm the last one out, so...


And now I'm thinking of writing a psychological thriller about this singular activity this summer. It is beyond maddening!

I can actually feel my brains spilling out all over the counter the second I walk in. The very thought of it as I round the corner to come into the bathroom makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. And then the moment I step inside, I hear spine-chilling screams in my head, and echoes of psychotic laughter reverberating between my ears.

And, truthfully, it is the very definition of insanity, people, because the fact is, that unless the magical contractor fairy surprises us in the middle of the night and suddenly moves the countertop 8 inches forward, NOTHING IS GOING TO CHANGE!!!

And the thing is, if I thought for one second that it bothered them even a tenth as much as it does me -- that if every time they came into the bathroom they rolled their eyes and sighed with exasperation at having to move the freakin' handsoap 8 inches closer to themselves AGAIN -- that might actually give me some sort of tiny perverse pleasure...

But NO!!! You know damn well that they don't even think twice about it, the diabolical little devils!!

But the thing that kills me most is the assumption that the metaphorical handsoap is always gonna be there in the right place, full, clean, and waiting -- It's just setting them up for failure!!! Or at least that's what that crazy militaristic mother on Wife Swap said the other day.

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