Toilets

It's Friday and I could not be happier. Whoever invented the 5-day work week should be shot. It's not that I don't like my job, it's just that I feel like a hamster on a wheel that never stops... Wake up, workout, shower, work, home, housework, sleep... wake up, shower, work, workout, home, housework, sleep. Throw eating in there a few times and there you go. My life. *sigh* What's worse, the speed of the wheel seems to be rapidly increasing, which reminds me that there is ABSOLUTELY NOTHING that I can do to stop my 25th birthday from happening. It's a mere 16 days away.

I am engaged to a hot, sexy, hilarious, and dangerously smart guy whose name shall remain undisclosed. Last night I asked him what name I should use when referring to him in my blog, and he said (brace yourselves): Cool Breeze

Yes, my fiance chose the "name" Cool Breeze. Take it or leave it, folks. It sounds like either a trashy stripper stage name OR a laundry detergent scent. Should I be worried?

Let me tell you about my most hated enemy. The TOILET. Yes, you know, the place where you "drop the kids off at the pool"? I am beginning to realize that I have a nerve wracking "fear" of toilets. In public restrooms, I am a MESS! Before entering, I must take a deep breath and work up courage to face the germs. Upon entering, I will not touch any doors with my hands or bare skin... either a paper towel barrier or my shoe will open any and all doors, if necessary. While strategically squatting over the pot, hovering AT LEAST 2 inches above it (thighs of STEEL I tell you!), I am just repulsed. As I look around the tainted stall, music from a bad horror movie begins to play in my head. Germs here, germs there... people are so dirty! When I'm done, if the toilet paper has touched the floor AT ALL, I will not wipe. I daintily "shake the dew off my lily" and carefully stand up, making sure not to touch ANYTHING. I have prefected the art of flushing with my foot (I do it quite gracefully, like a flamingo) and RARELY do I wash my hands. More often than not, the sink looks worse than the toilet. It's a crying shame. My idea of hell would be an endless sea of public restrooms and me HAVING to touch anything in them. *cringe, wince, shutter, gag*

So then what do I read in a health mag? That typically A KITCHEN SINK IS MORE GERMY THAN A TOILET! Great, now I have to figure out clever ways to never touch the sink, too. I should just invest in a body condom and move on.