There's nothing that says, "Hey girl, you're really in truly married! Can you believe it?!" like stumbling into the bathroom at 3 am (because you have a bladder the size of a olive) and dunking your bottom in a nice, cold bowl of toilet water.
Because he won't put the lid down.
He refuses to put the lid down.
Even at night, when you're tired, and confused, and don't want to turn the lights on...
he won't close the lid.
Because he's making a stand. A stand for all men who have suffered under the toilet tyranny of women for decades. Because he has logic on his side. "If I have to lift the lid, you should have to lower the lid."
He's right. But it's cold. The water is cold... and wet. And it's 3am. And in my sweet, innocent sleepiness, I forgot for a moment that I was married to a boy. A boy that lives with me and uses my toilet and is spearheading a grassroots resistance that will sweep through bathrooms across the country (watch out!). And I have drowsy, disoriented, cold-bottomed anger. And his bath towel is hanging just a little bit closer than mine.
It's so tempting. Ha! He'll never know there's toilet water on his bath towel. Then he'll go to dry his hair and he'll have toilet water hair! Hahahaha!
But I like to run my fingers through his hair. And I don't want toilet water hands, in addition to my toilet water bottom. So, I resist the temptation. And live to fight again another day.
(I promise, I will not overshare in this manner in the future.)