True confession time, friends. Potty Blogger does not use a toilet seat cover every time he sits down to make the poops.
Don’t judge me.
Sometimes, I’m in a hurry and seconds count. Other times, I simply prefer the cold hard industrial plastic to the crinkle of the tissue paper. (Something about the paper reminds me of a doctor’s office visit. Is it just me?)
And really, how much protection does that flimsy strip provide? I mean, if the potty crabs are out, they’re going to find a way into your bottom casa, aren’t they?
Anyhoo, I would guess my ratio is probably 60-40, plastic to paper.
But the other day, I was faced with an etiquette question. Potty Blogger entered fourth floor men’s room and headed for the penthouse stall. A colleague was finishing his business at one of the urinals and said hello as he headed toward the sink.
When I got into the penthouse, I was faced with the question: do I just sit down and commence download or do I now need to make a rather elaborate show of pulling out the seat cover, making sure that my colleague overhears my effort? Do I need to send an audible signal that I am, in fact, not a disgusting pig?
I buckled to peer pressure, pulled out the cover and made a few overly-dramatic flourishes and crinkles that surely telegraphed "I am a clean teen."
My colleague left with his delicate sensibilities in tact. But my session felt like a trip to the doctor’s office. The things we do for other people.