June 11, 2024
Let’s begin this thing you’re reading with a fascinating story involving a hot restroom toilet bowl. I was in a restroom at work and sitting down. My pants were not down around my ankles because that’s not where I keep my pants when I’m on the toilet. The top of my pants were up around my knees. I was flushing out of courtesy to the other people in the restroom. There was no one else in the restroom, but that doesn’t stop me from being my regular courteous self. As the bowl drained, fresh water flowed in on the sides. I noticed the fresh water was quickly heating my butt. The heat warmed everything exposed through the oval-shaped seat. I looked between my legs and saw steam coming up from the water.
Maybe steam coming out of the toilet bowl is normal in a colder climate, but this was not a chilly day in Southern California. We’re not officially in summer yet. According to Google, that begins on June 20 (whether or not the weather likes it). Me being me, I thought of taking a video of the steam rising but decided there was no appropriate angle I could capture it at. This was not the first time I felt heat on my butt from a toilet. I believe this same toilet has heated my butt before. This was the first time steam rose out of the toilet. It was weirdly impressive. When I got out of the restroom, I immediately sent myself a note so I wouldn’t forget what had happened on this day. You’re welcome.
Patti and I are celebrating our 27-year anniversary in three days. You might say our marriage is still steamy and hot. I don’t think Patti or I would say that, but you can say it. We still haven’t decided what we’re doing yet. Maybe Patti knows and just hasn’t told me. I texted her, and she said we could go out to breakfast and dinner since I didn’t want to go anywhere. The only stipulation from me was I didn’t want to go somewhere far away. According to Patti, going somewhere involves staying there overnight. I only have three days off. I don’t have retirement amount of time off.
June 12, 2024
This is my last workday before I’m off for three days. I interrupt this Thoughts paper to bring you something I cannot ignore happening around me. People are wrapping a large pallet full of boxes with cellophane. If you’ve never heard the noise the cellophane makes as they wrap something, you’ve been spared the torture of it. It is the equivalent of nails on a chalkboard. I’m sure there are people who can listen to it and not find it disturbing, but I’m not one of them. The sound is so loud and unnatural that my senses tell me to hide from it. They stopped now, so I’ll get over it soon. Hopefully, by the next paragraph.
I took a chill pill and am prepared to begin this paragraph with no distractions. This is going to be difficult because I’m surrounded by several different people talking. They are all at a distance and I can’t hear what they’re saying, but that doesn’t stop me from being distracted by them all. The most disturbing group comprises people who are white, middle class, and delight in telling work stories. Nothing bores me more than work stories. If you must work in a certain place to get these stories, they are crappy stories. When I find myself in the middle of one of these groups, I usually zone out or try to add some non-work-related humor to liven up the conversation. Finding these work stories already in progress usually leads to me walking away.
Work stories and conversations about food and drink relate so closely, they might as well be the same boring conversation. Hearing about what people do or do not like to consume is up there with sports talk or political conversations. Invariably, the group descends into those who like certain things and those who hate them. There is no middle ground. Food is either the greatest thing they’ve ever put in your mouth, or the worst experience their mouth has ever had. The things people don’t like to discuss that are interesting force us to judge our food choices with awards or death. I would rather talk about actual death.
I not only like to think for myself, but I require it. The thoughts of other people rarely become my thoughts. Expressing the thoughts of others seems to be the only thinking they do. Whatever source they recently heard and believed becomes how they think. I hear different points of view, and I add them to my thinking on a subject. My thinking changes as I receive more information about it. Changing my mind is a part of every day of my life. Taking only a positive or negative point of view on something allows people to never change their mind. As it turns out, changing their mind is rare but happens. Being set in your thinking comes with an inherently negative attitude about most things, especially things you don’t understand.
If my words seemed negative to you, just know that this is my Friday. Tomorrow, you won’t hear from me, but just know I’ll be in a better mood. If that doesn’t comfort you, I don’t know what will. Leaf sculpture!
Thoughts from Life 
Leave a comment