Haven't had any for days. I shower at the embassy gym, with the four other regulars. No singing. I wear flip flops. I almost said thongs, but that sounded weird.
There is a bathroom down the hall from my office. It is the smelliest room I have ever entered on purpose. My New Year's resolution is to never go there again. That is not a joke. There is a bathroom downstairs that is almost normal. It at least has a toilet anyway. But what Pakistanis do in toilets must be very different from what I do in toilets.
I have never seen a broken toilet seat in my life until this toilet. They replace the toilet seat about every month. And it is always broken the next day. I really can't figure out what the toilet is for, for them, that would immediately break the toilet seat. If I could answer this one riddle, I would be happy with my time here. Or maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I don't want to know.
None of the bathrooms provide any way to dry your hands. No paper towels. No blow dryer thingy. Shake it off. So I use my hair as a towel. But since I forget to bring shampoo to work at least half the time, my hair is often more like noodles soaked in olive oil than a towel. On the bright side, I discovered that three days without washing yields optimally manageable hair. Really, I can make it do anything. Other times I use my pockets as a towel. Or my socks.
Sometimes I just watch all the people walking out of the bathroom shaking their hands like zombies with Turrets.
I got up at 4 am to watch the Super Bowl. Spoiler alert: The Patriots lost. So that royally sucked. And I didn't even have good commercials to console me. No, I was watching on AFN (Armed Forces Network), so I got nice PSAs reminding me to stop cyber-bullying my co-workers. As if. That's how I cope with my confusion over the broken toilet seat.
There is a bathroom down the hall from my office. It is the smelliest room I have ever entered on purpose. My New Year's resolution is to never go there again. That is not a joke. There is a bathroom downstairs that is almost normal. It at least has a toilet anyway. But what Pakistanis do in toilets must be very different from what I do in toilets.
I have never seen a broken toilet seat in my life until this toilet. They replace the toilet seat about every month. And it is always broken the next day. I really can't figure out what the toilet is for, for them, that would immediately break the toilet seat. If I could answer this one riddle, I would be happy with my time here. Or maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I don't want to know.
None of the bathrooms provide any way to dry your hands. No paper towels. No blow dryer thingy. Shake it off. So I use my hair as a towel. But since I forget to bring shampoo to work at least half the time, my hair is often more like noodles soaked in olive oil than a towel. On the bright side, I discovered that three days without washing yields optimally manageable hair. Really, I can make it do anything. Other times I use my pockets as a towel. Or my socks.
Sometimes I just watch all the people walking out of the bathroom shaking their hands like zombies with Turrets.
I got up at 4 am to watch the Super Bowl. Spoiler alert: The Patriots lost. So that royally sucked. And I didn't even have good commercials to console me. No, I was watching on AFN (Armed Forces Network), so I got nice PSAs reminding me to stop cyber-bullying my co-workers. As if. That's how I cope with my confusion over the broken toilet seat.
3 comments:
Dude, this is hilarious!
Really, really sorry to laugh at your pain. But that is funny. ...
PS. Mark Oshida is in Singapore, I believe.
Tim, I really enjoyed reading this. Keep up the good work.-David LaPray
Post a Comment