Traveling & Toilets

In the immortal words of the philosopher, “Every trip is just one long journey to get back to your own bathroom.” Okay, I made that up.  But it’s true, for me at least – as I get older, each trip seems to take more of a toll.  This last trip to California to visit with family and family and reconnect with former classmates was amazing – I had so much fun and it was meaningful in a myriad of ways– but I was also reminded of two things 1) I’m too old and set in my ways to share a bathroom with anyone other than my husband and 2) I don’t sleep well when I’m not in my own bed. 

I keep telling myself I’m being silly, that there are more important things in life than creature comforts, but there it is…I am what I am.  And furthermore, I’ve decided to embrace it.  If I can’t have my own toilet, fine – but I’m still gonna miss it.  And when I lay my head down at night on a strange pillow I will dream of my comfy down pillow back at home.  When I am reunited with them at the end of the trip it’s always a sweet homecoming.

When I was younger I could pee happily in any gas station bathroom along the way.  In foreign countries, I would occasionally make do with just a hole in the ground and no T.P.  On one memorable occasion, during a trip to Tunisia, I had to pee into a hole that was separated from a bar full of men by just a flimsy curtain (hey, beggars can’t be choosers).  There have been many times when a bush by the side of a trail has had to do (when nature calls you gotta answer).  And let’s not even talk about airport bathrooms.  But now that I’m older and more set in my ways, give me my gleaming porcelain, my two-ply T.P, my Egyptian cotton towels…oh, and my magnifying mirror.  (I cringe to think of all the times I was forced to put on makeup without it – God only knows what I looked like).  It may be small comfort, but in the end it’s the little things that count.   

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