Bird News

Toilet Neurosis

I'll get to the title of this thing soon enough but first I will say that we just got back from a whirlwind trip to L.A. for Bobby and Massy's amazing wedding. It was wonderful to see such a dancing and happy bride & groom. It was a lavish event.

We made the most out of the trip by caravanning down to start the transplantation of our cars and to move Gretchen the Iguana to a temporary home in Topanga. (thank you David and Mary!) I fashioned a funky travel cage for Ms. G, which was comprised of a 2' egg crate and an upside down laundry basket. We put her travel cage in the front seat and her (very large) everyday cage in the back of Steve's pickup. It was a hazard-light-producing, side-of-the-highway-stopping adventure. The cage doors rattled, escape attempts were made, and Iguana defecation happened.

In addition to the Iguana drama, I had to pee at least 5 times during our 6-hour trip! First in Santa Cruz, then in Gonzales, then at the Madonna Inn -an entertaining pit stop, then on the side of the road somewhere past Santa Maria, and then in Santa Barbara. I've never had to pee so much on a road trip!

During one of these roadside pee excursions, I was reminded of how much I hate automatic toilets! Here are some of the reasons:

1. More often than not, they flush too early.

2. I usually don't realize I am encountering one until it has totally freaked me out.

3. When I do realize I am sitting on one, I feel nervous and anxious the whole time about the probability of reason #1.

4. Reason #3 usually leads to self-fulfilling prophesy of reason #1.

I have forever been afraid of industrial toilets. The powerful flush inspires an urge to get away as quickly as possible. Ever since I was old enough to use a public toilet, I have steadfastly followed a certain order of operations:

1. Use toilet.

2. If it is in a stall, get totally prepared to leave. (put coat back on -if applicable, sling purse on shoulder etc.)

3. Open door and step out of stall.

4. Flush toilet with foot.

5. Leave vicinity in a hurry.

For obvious reasons, automatic toilets completely destroy this time-tested procedure.

In contrast to being afraid of loud, vortex-producing, high-tech industrial toilets, I am also frightened of low-tech pit toilets- the kind that have direct, vertical openings to large, deep pits of waste. Pit toilets are often found in state parks and campsites. Aside from not wanting to expose myself to a rancid pit of excrement, I tend to have paranoid fantasies that an earthquake could occur and split open the floor. Or maybe a monster could be living in the pit and grab me from below. What if Freddy Kruger lives down there? Or a weird pervert? Pit toilets rouse my imagination in an uncomfortable way and they basically just freak me out.