Come sail away, come sail away, come sail away with me

Had to get away from some rabbit hole searching, so here I am with you. Consider it a blessing, for it could be no less. Ah, anyway....

Had the house to myself this weekend; Fred had gone mountain biking in VT and Evangeline was at a wedding in Chicago. It was nice, but I wasn't around that much to enjoy it. Still, practicing yoga in my underwear and going full out nude for Savasana, was sublime.

Oh, that Shitter! You may remember, but probably don't, a post not to long ago in which I carried on about a guy who was always in the bathroom taking a shit every time I went for a piss or to wash my hands. In a fit of inspiration, I dubbed him The Shitter. I didn't really portray him in a positive light. Might have had something to do with the fact that virtually every time I went to use the restroom, this guy would be in there taking wretched dumps. Yeah, a real gleeful time listening to the disgusting shit purging sounds - pphhhwwwwppptttt!!!!, flawwwwtttttttttt!!!! And that smell! You don't have to be in the employ of Scotland Yard to figure out where that fucker stuffs his face. All you need is a nose, my friend. Wendy's, Taco Bell, Dominos, KFC, - they're all represented in the putrid stench that fills the room. What an asshole!

Anyway, The Shitter is a real pain in the neck, but I suppose he's not so bad. The reason I brought him up at all is because he does something that is actually kind of endearing, but mostly hilarious. Sometimes I'll be in the bathroom and The Shitter will enter hurriedly and make a beeline for one of the stalls (actually, he only ever uses one; it's his favorite). Whenever this happens, I try to wrap up my business post haste so I don't have to get caught up in his noxious activities.

A week or two or ago, I found out that during his "emergencies", he does his best to keep his wolves at bay until I've left the room. How did I find this out? See, one time I decided I wasn't going to let this guy The Shitter dictate how I go about my business. I decided not to hurry out of the restroom this time. I washed and dried my hands at a relaxed pace and even opened the door in a casual manner. When I stepped out into the hallway, I heard a thunderous sound. "PPFFFLAAARRRRSSHHHHH!!" It startled me, but The Shitter had done everything in his power to shield me from his excremental wrath.

The next couple of times a similar scenario played out, I would open the door very slowly and linger a bit in the doorway, holding back laughter all the while. I imagined him all red-faced thinking to himself, "I can't hold out much longer. Why hasn't this asshole left?". And then..... well you know what followed.

So I guess The Shitter, in his own way, is actually considerate. And me? Well, you could say I'm a bit of a prick for playing games with someone's bowel movements. If it's true, whatever. I call it karma. And for the record, I've put up with much worse from him.