So my mom and dad were visiting from out of town the other day when I came to a frightening realization. It was Sunday morning when my dad asked for the sports section. "We don't get the paper, dad" I responded. "Ah, yes. You're one of those Internet freaks", he continued, "But what do you take into the crapper on Sunday mornings? Your laptop?".
It was then when it dawned on me. Rarely do I ever have time to go number two at home. I honestly couldn't even tell you if we have toilet paper in our house. And then I began to wonder if I was alone. I'm a moderately succesful man with a lovely wife, three young children a dog and a leapord gecko. Between coaching soccer, basketball, gymnastics, baseball, birthday parties, painting bathrooms, mowing lawns, social engagements, play dates, lawn darts, killing bats that come through the fireplace, re-hanging pictures, attempting to get the tupperware to fit in the draw and actually speaking to my wife on occassion.
My story probably isn't much different than many other men. We work. We maintain our castles. We're involved in our children's lives more than previous generations. There is a constant pressure to keep up financially, socially and aesthetically. All the while, we are fast forwarding through life leaving a plethora of simple pleasures in our wake. Like the Sunday morning ritual of filling our minds with useless sports statistics while emptying our bowels of useless processed food substances. The circle of life, friends. The circle of life.
More to come as I continue down the road of life, rarely having time to pull over and actually poo in one of my two and a half baths. Ocassionally I hope to slow down to notice what it is that I'm actually missing. In the meantime, in the words of perhaps the greatest professional wrestler turned governor, Jesse Ventura, "I ain't got time to poop".
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