Toilet seat covers are marketing. You know that, right? There’s really nothing bad that can happen to you in a public bathroom that is going to be changed by the existence of a toilet seat cover. Well, except the possibility of leaving the bathroom without something stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Because that? It can totally be changed by the existence of a toilet seat cover.
A TSC says clean where clean doesn’t necessarily exist. Speaking of which, I really detest hand sanitizer too. Our immune systems benefit from incidental contact with funk. And if you really want the funk *off* you should wash your hands. What you get with hand sanitizer? Sanitized funk. That is still on your hands. You ain’t’ clean, just sterile. My point is that hand sanitizer ranks higher on my esteem-meter than toilet seat covers. TSCs seem like a good idea until you put one down, take a seat and realize that this was a sprinkled toilet seat and well, it still is. <<<—Yes, this is the line that will make me hover over the publish key. Yay for me.
I’m not saying that I never ever would use these things. It’s just that I don’t kid myself that they are actually doing any good. I may use some hand sanitizer after touching the door handle at Target and then realize I have something in my eye that I have to get out right now. Yeah, I’m going into the eye and I acknowledge what is coming with me. And that is a whole bunch of nastiness produced by humans and animals and oh…I am barfing. The safe thing to do is not touch my eye. Using the hand sanitizer is not keeping the…uhm….stuff… out of my eye, just decreasing the odds of a massive infection. Either way, still gross. If you don’t like all that, don’t remind me of the mixed feelings I have about library books. It’s where my abiding love for literature meets “Ack! don’t turn that page…you don’t know what’s in there! And I’m not talking about the plot” alternately titled “Page turner meets allergy attack.” As for the toilet seat covers, they’re there, and I like the sound they make when I pull one out of the dispenser.
How did I get here? I am so so sorry.
Things we make ourselves believe that we need. That was my point. It’s entirely possible that this is still my point.
I have mentioned before about my constant life companion Justin Case. Always there…in my head. I plan for him. I’ve lived for him. I am totally over him but he pops up again from time to time when I have convinced myself that I need him around. My self esteem wavers a bit, I wonder if I can handle it all and then I find myself planning for some eventuality that is almost comical in it’s ridiculousness. Like catching something from a toilet seat. That’s right, what toilet seat covers are to some people, contingency plans are to me. Because “you never know.” The person that made up that phrase; I’d like to cover them in ants bees and honey. And toilet seat covers. And then deprive them of hand sanitizer.
I found myself doing the just-in-case thing recently. I have been caught in a bit of a tide pool of doing things that are good for myself and credit card debt. I max out my 401(k), put money into my house and then forget to spend money on making myself happy. Then, when I do, it goes on a credit card. So I trade in my happy feelings for the dread of debt. Because I am afraid of being homeless. I know, it sounds crazy, but this is my reasoning. I have stock that I will not sell because I fear being homeless. The funny thing is that my degree is in business administration and I read psychology books for fun. And while I know that I should be taking the middle path on this, I have trouble navigating between austerity and self-indulgence. And money is how I punish myself. And guilt and stress are along for the ride. Awesome.
I had one of those “I am kidding myself” moments today. It starts with a reminder that the worst case scenario is not the always case scenario and that being present in the moment holds so much power; then a quick check and realization that I have some old stock options expiring in the next year. Then I walk into a restroom stall and see a wet toilet seat. I look at the toilet seat cover and I think “you are totally kidding yourself, Heather.”
I skipped the toilet seat cover and walked into another stall.