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How Dry I Am, er… Used to Be

Someone recently told me that I should drink more water to hydrate my skin and delay the aging process. Of course this is the same person who told me to try elephant dung cream for wrinkles...
water pouring

Someone recently told me that I should drink more water to hydrate my skin and delay the aging process. Of course this is the same person who told me to try elephant dung cream for wrinkles, so I’m not exactly sure why I am listening to her about this water thing. However, since water seemed to be more benign than elephant poo, I decided I had nothing to lose by giving it a try.

Unfortunately, according to the laws of physics, what goes in, must come out, and for me, it mostly seemed to want to come out at night.

I’m typically something of a camel, and do not usually need to visit the bathroom in the middle of the night. Apparently, though, someone else does, because the first night of my water experiment, I woke up, went to the bathroom, sat down in the dark, and fell in the toilet.

Now, I’m not naming names or pointing fingers, but the truth of the matter is, I only share the bathroom with one other person. It is the same person who shares my bedroom and kind of happens to be male. Men are known to lift the toilet seat when they do their business… and sometimes, forget to put it back down.

This was the state of the toilet seat when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

“Argh!!” I yelled, as I experienced the shock of cold porcelain followed by the further shock of cold water.

“Hey... are you OK?” I heard a voice yell from the bedroom. Apparently my yells and the ensuing splash must have woken up the toilet seat culprit.

“I’m fine,” I growled. “You left the toilet seat up.”

“Oh, sorry,” came the sleepy reply. That was it? “Oh, sorry?” Here I was with my lower region submerged in the toilet and all I got was an, “Oh, sorry?” I removed myself from the bowl, lowered the toilet seat, and went back to the bedroom to lambast the culprit, but he was already asleep.

Fortunately, I am the forgiving type. I decided that if a certain someone showered me with chocolate the next day, I could overlook this momentary lapse in male etiquette.

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So I went back to sleep. And two hours later, I was up again. Cursing the friend who recommended this stupid water regimen, I went back to the bathroom. Hoping to get it over with quickly, I flung myself onto the seat… and fell in the toilet once again.

“Are you KIDDING me?” I roared.

“Everything OK?” came the voice from the bedroom.

“You left the toilet seat up, again!” I bellowed. I was stunned. It was equal parts disbelief and cold water. It occurred to me that I didn’t actually need to drink the water to hydrate my skin. In my house, I just needed to sit on the toilet.

I was prepared to really protest this time, but once again, when I returned to the bedroom, the toilet seat offender was out cold.

Shaking my head in disgust. I went back to bed… and woke up two hours later with that familiar urge.

Recalling that old adage, “Fool me once; shame on you. Fool me twice; shame on me,” I decided not to take any chances. I went directly into my son’s bathroom across the hall, sat down… and fell in the toilet.

Apparently, the apple does not fall far from the pee.

Note: For more Lost in Suburbia, visit Tracy’s blog at

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