Sunday, November 02, 2014

Thoughts Linger

Plunging a toilet clogged by somebody else's... um...  issue...  is a terrible, maddening experience. Trying to avoid looking at the obvious while eagerly anticipating the telltale swirl of success. The odd dance of force plus delicacy required to avoid splashing. Praying no hint of funk slips past the shirt clutched maddening up over your nose. Time dilates. The bowl grows to enormous proportions in your vision. And nearly every beat of your heart brings you closer to either abandoning the effort, puking, or both

But what are you going to do? It must be done. And you're the best resource for it. Will anyone know you did it? Would anyone care you did it, if they knew? Will you get the slightest bit of appreciation or thanks for your efforts? Can any reward be worth the hideously foul effort? Likely, no to all of those.

But you do it. You suffer. You receive nothing. Aside from a place to safely pee. Nobody asks. You don't tell. And other than one or two infrequent readers of your obscure self-therapeutic blog, nobody in your life is aware that you plunged that nasty toilet.

That, my friends, is love.

(Or you have to pee, badly.)

But then a rare moment of clarity: How many people in my life have plunged toilets on account of my issues without my knowing or my thanks or my appreciation?

(How many people in yours?)

Such thoughts linger. Long after the bowl clears.
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