There's an old saying: "The heart knows when it's home."*
Well, so does the sphincter.
Yesterday, this veteran potty blogger took a seat on an old friend--the toilet in the penthouse stall in the 4th floor men's room at 720 California.
And just like how your pupils dilate when you see a loved one from your past, my body had a similar response to sitting on the familiar plastic. (And I'm not talking about my pupils. You know what I'm referring to, right?)
It was like now time at all had passed. The give (me) and take (toilet) was as enjoyable as every--like two childhood besties at a reunion, laughing, completing each other's sentences, and reconnecting after a prolonged separation.
What drew me back to my old stomping grounds? Nostalgia. Familiarity. Comfort. After all, just like that wise old TV-show taught us, "sometimes you want to poop where everybody knows your name."
Tomorrow is promised to no one, but I feel like there may be more opportunities for us to spend time together in the near future. I hope so. We have some catching up to do. And I'm anxious to learn how the men of 720 are treating my old pal. With the respect it deserves, I'm sure.
* Honestly, I have no idea whether this is an old saying or not. I made it up.
